Reapers, Inc. - Dark Souls

- Reapers, Inc. - Dark Souls

- Midpoint

Reapers, Inc.- Dark Souls

By

B.L. Newport

Smashwords Edition

© 2011, B.L. Newport

This book available in print at www.Amazon.com

ISBN: 1461128846

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents are purely a product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to actual persons - living or dead - places or events are entirely coincidental.

Also by B.L. Newport on Smashwords.com

Reapers, Inc. - Brigit’s Cross

Reapers, Inc. - Rogue Reaper

Acknowledgements

Thank you to everyone that has inspired me during this stint of the journey. You know who you are and I am grateful to know you.

Thank you to Dr. Jana Waters for your keen eye, your professorial skills and humor in editing this installment. I appreciate you beyond words.

To my fans, family and friends – Thank you, thank you and thank you.

To my loving partner, Rochelle, the biggest thanks as always. I couldn’t do any of this without you, your love and support.

“It’s always your choice to be where you are, but in the end, it’s always what you were supposed to choose all along.” - Beatrice Wiedmer

1: Child's Song

The child stood still and closed his eyes. The energy was beginning to build in the depths of his gut. Small, pudgy hands hang by his side as he waited. It was coming again. He couldn’t help it – this urge that overcame him when he knew he should be quiet. It was unstoppable. He would give in. He was no longer afraid when he was firm in its grasp. He was happy. It held him close, protecting him – making him forget the fear that would prevail when it was gone.

The energy rose and rose until it forced his mouth open. The first note was a little wobbly. It always was. It carried his fear with it. It always did; but the child knew it would even out. It would become crystal clear as he breathed in and sang out the next note. It always did.

Louie didn’t know what the words meant. He simply sang them as they came. It was always this way. The song came to his mind, filling it like water fills an empty bucket. The urge to let it loose and fill the air around him was uncontrollable. Louie was its servant, its instrument. There was no silencing it even though there were times that he really wished he could. Loud and strong his voice would ring, filling the air with the words he had never heard – words he would not remember once the song was sung. The song would float through the air like cottonwood seeds carried on the breeze before a summer storm.

Louie had hoped to one day learn the meanings of this language he had never heard during his six years of life. He had hoped that one day – when he could read – he would seek the translations and meaning of the words that flooded his small mind and spilled off his tongue. Those hopes, however, were obliterated in the blink of an eye…

He could remember that moment so clearly. He could still see that instant when he had stared up into the angry face of Uncle Fin. He could still hear the sound of his tiny heart thundering in his chest and ears as Uncle Fin squeezed his neck so tight between large and calloused hands. He could no longer hear what Uncle Fin was screaming at him – only the hammering of his heart.

Louie had ran and hidden after that. He watched from behind the small garden shed as Uncle Fin had buried the small, round body in the furthest corner of the backyard. When the man had finally gone away, Louie had slowly emerged to stand over the mound of dirt. He knew Uncle Fin had done something bad. He knew Uncle Fin was trying to hide something and it angered Louie because there was nothing he could do. Then the song had begun to rise in him, filling him with a temporary joy that caused him to forget his anger.

For so many years, Louie grew to understand his situation. He knew he would forever be a little boy. He knew he could sing without a care in the world. Uncle Fin, though he could hear Louie’s voice clearly, could never find him. When the child wasn’t caught up in the exhilaration of the song, he watched from behind the sagging picket fence that surrounded Uncle Fin’s yard as life continued to progress through the neighborhood. He watched as the children he had played with grew up to have children of their own. He watched from outside the windows as Uncle Fin slowly turned into a feeble, old man with no one to care for him in the end.

Louie had been standing outside the window watching on the day Uncle Fin had died. He had watched patiently as Uncle Fin lay down on his worn out mattress and closed his eyes, his frail chest laboring for breath. Louie had not been afraid, nor did he feel sorry. To Louie, Uncle Fin, mean and hateful Uncle Fin, had gotten exactly what he deserved.

Then, Uncle Fin sat up from his body.

The image Louie saw rise up from the rail thin body still laying on the bed reacquainted the child with the onslaught of fear he had known during the last few minutes of his short life. Uncle Fin had arisen from his body as the angry and strong man Louie remembered. The child had turned away from the window with the urgent knowledge that he had to run – he had to hide. He had to find a way to silence the song for sure now.

Mama Dee stared hard at the small house set in the middle of the large yard. The grass had grown high around it, creating a seemingly impenetrable barricade of weeds. The little old woman sniffed hard in audible disapproval. She had never understood why people didn’t take better care of their things. The sight before her made her appreciate the decision to leave her apartment to Maggie, even if Maggie was still intent on selling it. At least Mama Dee knew it was being cared for. Inanely, the old woman clutched the portfolio in her hand tighter and began to approach the wall of weeds.

The house inside was as ramshackle as it was on the outside. Mama Dee sniffed in disgust again as she scanned the room. The air was thick with the scent of decay and mildew. Trash covered almost every inch of the floor beneath her feet. Obviously, she decided, no one had ever told Phineus Holdaway that cleanliness was next to godliness.

Phineus Holdaway had lived a long life. He had been a crank drunk of a man when he had died, leaving behind an extended family that had shed no tears at the news of his passing. As a young man, Phineus had been angry and arrogant, passing through life with the idea that he was owed something from everyone around him. Yet, none of this was what had qualified him as ‘Potentially Dangerous’. There was only one incident that had landed him in this category. He had taken a life – and it had been the life of a child. That particular piece of information had infuriated Mama Dee. It had given her the nerve to tackle this assignment first.

Mama Dee scanned the room again, her dark eyes taking in the grime and clutter. It was devoid of energy. Phineus Holdaway was not inside.

“I don’t blame him,” Mama Dee grumbled as she slowly started for the door on the opposite side of the room. “I wouldn’t want to sit in this either; but I ain’t here to judge, am I?” she asked no one in particular as she reached for the doorknob.

Louie could feel his heart hammering inside his chest as the song rushed out of him. Uncle Fin was coming. He would find him at any moment. The end would play itself out all over again. Louie hated these moments. He hated feeling the fear course through him as Uncle Fin’s big, strong hands squeezed his throat so tightly.

“Damn you, boy! How many times do I have to tell you to shut the hell up?”

Uncle Fin was yelling as he searched the yard for the little boy. Louie was hiding behind the shed, but he knew it would only shield him for a few more minutes. He prayed the song would be over soon. Then, Louie would have the chance to run and hide until Uncle Fin gave up his search and went back inside. He would be safe until the next wave of song came again… Louie clenched his small fists as the hammering of his heart intensified. The song was close to being over. He could feel it. He knew it was close because he could feel his fear rising quickly behind it.

Mama Dee stepped out onto the warped boards of the back porch and immediately caught sight of her quarry. Phineus Holdaway was angrily beating at the weeds in search of something. The curses flying from his mouth unnerved her. As she watched him, she could hear another voice coming from a different part of the large backyard. Her ears heard the tune as her eyes remained fixed on the angry black man rampaging through the tall grass. It was a child’s voice singing in a language that Mama Dee knew to be an ancient tongue. There was only one other soul she had ever known to use it; but there was no time at the present to follow that thought further. It occurred to her that the man in the weeds could hear the voice too. It was the source of the song that he was furiously searching for. Silent, Mama Dee stepped off the porch and followed Phineus Holdaway.

Louie held the note for as long as he could. Uncle Fin was coming. The child knew he needed to run and hide, but the song demanded these last few seconds from him. He could feel his fingernails cutting into the tender flesh of his palms as his tiny fists tightened all the more in anticipation of what was about to happen. Just one more second…

“I done told you to shut the hell up, boy!”

Uncle Fin had found him. Louie felt the angry man’s big hand around his throat. His feet were no longer touching the ground. The last note of the song was choked into immediate silence. Louie’s eyes opened wide – not in surprise – but rather, in the full on grip of fear he had felt rising behind the song.

“I’m sick to death of your racket!” Uncle Fin snarled as he shook the child in his grasp like a rag doll. “You been hauntin’ me too long,” the angry man roared as he tightened his grip around the child’s neck.

“Phineus Holdaway, you let that baby go!”

Mama Dee watched as the angry man suddenly stood still. What little fear she had possessed had easily given way to anger as she had come around the corner of the garden shed and laid eyes on the scene now before her. Her surprise to actually see the child she had heard singing was overshadowed by the rage she felt toward the soul she had come to cross over. Surprise, it seemed, was now on the shoulders of Phineus Holdaway. He turned slowly to face the woman that had spoken to him as if she were his mother. The child was hanging in his grip like an overfilled water balloon.

“Who the hell are you?” Phineus demanded defiantly. Mama Dee leveled her dark eyes on the man. He was much taller than she, but that did not sway her fury.

“I said to put that baby down,” she snapped.

“And I asked you a question. You answer me, woman!”

“Answer you? Boy, you better watch your tone with me,” Mama Dee warned. “Now, put that boy down.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? My momma?” Phineus demanded as he threw the child to the ground and puffed out his chest in further defiance. The woman was telling him what to do. He took orders from no one – especially a woman.

The boy released an audible grunt as he landed in the dirt. The sound reached Mama Dee’s ears, steeling her nerves despite the danger she could feel rising before her.

“Your momma ain’t got nothin’ on me, boy,” Mama Dee replied, her gaze narrowing dangerously. “Baby,” she addressed the child, “come to Mama Dee.”

“Don’t you move, Louie George,” Phineus barked at the child.

The boy looked from one adult to the other before settling his frightened gaze on Mama Dee. He hoped with all his tiny heart that the old woman could read the fear in his eyes. She was standing up for him. He didn’t want Uncle Fin to hurt her for it.

“Louie, come here, baby. He can’t hurt you,” Mama Dee assured him.

“Woman, you better shut your mouth,” Phineus screamed.

“No! You shut the hell up,” Mama Dee commanded with a stern point of her finger. The force of the words that flew from her mouth pushed the man back a step. Louie, she noted, remained perfectly still. “I am sick and tired of your mouth, Phineus Holdaway,” she said angrily as she took two steps toward him. The action brought to view the door to his fate. It was to her right. It was a just reward, she quickly thought, for hurting a child. Phineus Holdaway was headed to Hell.

Mama Dee glanced at the child as she reached out to open the door that had appeared. The glance was a mistake. Phineus struck out with his fist, connecting squarely with Mama Dee’s jaw. The force of the blow caused her to stumble back, yet, she remained on her feet. That was Phineus’ mistake. The sensation, though it was not painful, immediately brought on a memory that pushed her anger over the edge.

Only one man had ever hit Mama Dee during her life. It had been once – and only once. Mama Dee had sent that man to the hospital. No one hit Mama Dee – ever.

The little old woman raised her eyes to the man in front of her. Danger danced through both their eyes as Mama Dee squared her shoulders. Phineus remained defiant, ready to strike again.

“Is that all you got, son?” Mama Dee asked. Her voice was low in its taunt. “You ain’t all that,” she scoffed. “My granny can do better than you with one hand tied behind her back.”

From the corner of her eye, Mama Dee saw the child slowly beginning to crawl out of reach.

“I’ll show you what I got,” Phineus promised with a growl.

Before Mama Dee could think of a reply, the big man had lunged across the space between them. She felt his body crash against her before they fell to the ground in a tangled mess of flying fists and curses. Over and over they exchanged blows as her mind raced. She had to get the door open. She had to pass him over.

“Louie,” Mama Dee suddenly called out, “open the door!”

Louie remained frozen on the ground as he watched Uncle Fin and the lady in the pink dress rolling around in the dirt. His heart was hammering in his ears again. He could barely hear her tell him to open the door that had appeared when she had stepped close to Uncle Fin. When the words finally sank in, the child scrambled toward the door.

Keeping one eye on the action behind him, Louie reached for the door handle above his head. His chubby fingers could barely grasp the slick knob. The lady was still fighting with Uncle Fin frantically. He had to open the door. He had to help her.

Mama Dee swung her fist hard and connected with Phineus’ head. The strength of the blow rolled the man to his side. Mama Dee took the chance to roll away from his reach. As she scrambled, her dark eyes searched the underbrush for anything to defend herself with. A slight shape caught her eye. There was no time to wonder what it could be. Quickly, she reached for the end of it just as she felt the big man’s hand grasp her by the ankle. Hoping to break his grip, Mama Dee rolled, pulling the discarded shaft of a garden hoe free from the weeds. She swung it with all her might, firmly knocking her attacker against the side of the head.

Phineus fell back, allowing the little old woman the time she needed to scramble to her feet. From the corner of her eye, she could see the small boy struggling to open the door. Mama Dee cocked the hoe’s shaft over her shoulder like a baseball bat as Phineus steadied himself on his feet. Hurry, child. Open the door…she urged in her mind as she braced herself for the attack she could see the angry man planning. She had finally looked him in the eye. She could see his every thought.

The big man once again launched himself across the space between them. Mama Dee swung the shaft as if she were swinging at an approaching ball. The force of the swing as it connected once more with the man’s head snapped the shaft in two, leaving her with a piece barely big enough to be used as a club. The man was not deterred. He tackled the little old woman with an angry roar, pulling her to the ground to begin their mad scramble once more.

Louie finally felt his fingers lock around the door knob. Quickly, the child turned the bulb between his hands and yanked, pulling the door open. A fierce stench rushed from the darkness on the other side. Frightened, he jumped back from the doorway and returned his attention to the scuffle behind him. Uncle Fin had the lady pinned again. Louie quickly searched the ground. He had to help her.

His eyes landed on the broken piece of stick she had been using. Louie snatched it up and swung it with everything he could muster. A loud crack sounded as he hit Uncle Fin on the back of the head. The boy expected the man’s head to split open like a ripe watermelon. Instead, the stick merely cracked and splintered in his hand; but Louie was okay with that. Uncle Fin had stopped hitting the lady.

Slowly, the big man turned and faced his new attacker. Louie looked up into his uncle’s angry face and felt his fear reach new heights within him. Suddenly, the child heard the woman’s voice again. Whether it was with his ears or in his head, he wasn’t sure; but he heard her clearly: Run, Louie, run!

2: Diplomacy

Brigit struggled to maintain her patience as she was pushed along the shadowed alleyway. Madam Zapatos led the way silently. She had coiled her bullwhip into a tight loop and secured it to the wide leather belt around her thin waist. Brigit imagined that the other woman felt as if she were in total control of the situation and that she would have no further need of the weapon at present. The boys following behind Brigit kept their silence. She wondered if they were mutes, or, if they only spoke when spoken to. It seemed to her that Madam Zapatos would have that kind of control on her staff.

Brigit studied Madam Zapatos as they walked. She wondered what her story might be. The Roma woman walked proudly, her back as straight as a board, her angular chin raised high. Brigit could see the other woman’s head turning with the slightest degree from right to left as they passed through the alley. She was scanning the shadows. Brigit found it odd that the other assistant Reaper would not feel secure to pass through the unseen side of life. What was she afraid of?

As they stepped from the narrow alleyway that served as the exit to the portal, Brigit barely paused to look around her. One of the silent ones pushed her roughly from behind in the forceful reminder to keep up with their mistress. Brigit bit her tongue to keep her silence. She was really beginning to be annoyed…

The thought crossed her mind to call for John Blackwick. He could intervene and this would all be settled in an instant. Brigit pushed that thought aside, however. She was the senior assistant, after all. She could be diplomatic and handle this herself.

Madam Zapatos led them to a building across the square they had entered upon stepping from the alleyway. Brigit focused her sight on the plain wooden door as they approached. Large paned windows on either side revealed the activity inside. From the street, Brigit could see the patrons conversing and drinking. It was a café – much like the café on Bleecker Street. She wondered, however, whether it was a ghost café or one that actually existed. Before she could make a determination one way or the other, Madam Zapatos had opened the plain wooden door and entered. Brigit followed the Reaper in, and stopped just inside. All eyes in the café immediately settled on her, answering the question she had been wondering just the few seconds before. They had entered a ghost café.

Madam Zapatos strode across the dimly lit room to a small table in the far corner before turning and leveling her dark eyes on Brigit.

“Sit.”

The command was terse in its delivery.

Brigit took another quick glance around at the faces in the room. All eyes were still settled on her. She was about to return her attention to Madam Zapatos when she felt a hand against her back. Before the owner of that hand had an opportunity to register what was happening, Brigit had turned and caught the arm attached to that hand. In a swift and fluid movement, Brigit twisted the arm behind its owner’s back as she pushed him to stand in front of her. Despite the knowledge that he could feel no real pain, Brigit felt a slight measure of satisfaction in the dance of discomfort the boy did under her tight grip.

“Touch me again and I will rip your arms off and beat you with them,” she growled close to his ear. “Comprendes, amigo?” she asked. The boy swallowed hard before nodding his head to show his comprehension.

“Release him,”

Brigit’s dark eyes snapped back to the face of Madam Zapatos. There was a slight look of concern on the other woman’s angular face as she watched the scene in the middle of the room. Brigit felt a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It appeared that Madam Zapatos might have a heart after all.

“Say ‘please’,” Brigit replied.

The tall Gypsy woman swallowed hard as Brigit’s words sank in on her mind. Brigit could see the realization sinking in on the other Reaper that Brigit could be every bit as dangerous as she intimated. Finally, an awkward smile forced itself across Madam Zapatos’ face.

“Please,” she said softly, “release the boy.”

Carefully, Brigit released her grip on the young man and stepped back. Her satisfaction was heightened as she watched him scamper out of her reach.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked calmly. No answer came as she scanned the room one last time. No one made a sound. Finally, she returned her attention to Madam Zapatos. “Do we need to call John Blackwick? Or, will you mind your manners and handle this with a bit of class?”

Madam Zapatos narrowed her dark eyes against the insinuation of Brigit’s question. Brigit could easily read the defiance and anger that was running through the other woman’s mind at the insult she had just launched.

“I am in charge here,” the tall woman reminded haughtily. Brigit saw her sharp chin raise a notch in defiance so that she could look down her nose at the shorter woman. Brigit remained unaffected by the slight movement. “You have no say in how I behave. Now,” the Gypsy woman paused, “please, sit.”

For a moment, the two women stared hard at one another. Brigit could see that they were evenly matched. Madam Zapatos was quick thinker, capable of guessing her opponent’s next move before countering it if she were paying attention. A battle between them would last for days. It was a scenario Brigit had no time for – especially since she had just returned from such a long recovery. There was work to be done.

Finally, Brigit shrugged and crossed the room to the table where her counterpart stood waiting. Casually, she pulled out a chair and sank into it. For now, she would be acquiescent; but for how long, she hadn’t yet decided.

“Now,” Madam Zapatos began as she sank into her own chair. Brigit was not surprised to notice that the other woman sat with her back to the wall. “Who are you really?”

“I’ve already told you,” Brigit replied coolly. She couldn’t help but smile now. The silliness of the situation was beginning to amuse her. She struggled to maintain control of the sarcasm she could feel riding the tail of her amusement. “My name is Brigit Malone, and I am the assistant to John Blackwick.”

This time, there was no sneering grunt of disbelief from her captor. Instead, there was only the intense stare as Madam Zapatos took her time in determining whether Brigit was telling the truth.

“You’ve broken territory rules,” Madam Zapatos finally said. Her voice was calm with the accusation. The idea that Brigit was a dangerous soul played at the back of her mind. She had witnessed how fast the smaller woman could move. She had no wish to ignite that fury again. At least, not in the way of a confrontation… “Each Assistant Reaper is responsible for the territory they are assigned. You have impeded on my territory and passed a soul that was the responsibility of this office to pass.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” Brigit cut in, “but, I had the file. That made it my responsibility.”

“A mistake made by the Bailey, I am sure,” Madam Zapatos snapped.

“Perhaps, but as I said: I had the file, therefore, it was my responsibility to complete the assignment. Especially since there was another player to the scene.”

“Ah, yes, the second infraction of territory rules,” Madam Zapatos sneered. “The bringing of another soul to foreign soil. What gave you the right to make that particular decision?”

“I’ve already told you that as well,” Brigit answered.

“Tell me again,” the tall woman snapped. Brigit arched a dark eyebrow in mocking question of the woman’s tone. Madam Zapatos mistook the arching of that eyebrow as a sign of offence and shrank back slightly at the sight of it. “Please,” she said calmly. “Tell me again.”

“True Love gave me the right, Madam Zapatos,” Brigit answered with a slight smile. “Now, if you have no other questions, I really need to get back to work.” Brigit rose from her seat. As far she was concerned, the interrogation was over. She had more important things to do.

She watched as Madam Zapatos raised a hand and snapped her fingers. Brigit heard the sound of chairs scraping against the wood floor. She could feel the wall of energy that had suddenly amassed behind her. Her patience and the time for diplomacy had finally reached its end. With the blink of her eyes, Brigit sent out the call she had been hoping to avoid.

“John, please come to the Madrid office at once.”

A horrified look suddenly washed over Madam Zapatos’ face. She had heard Brigit’s request. By the paling of the ruddy woman’s dark skin, Brigit realized her counterpart was suddenly in fear of being reprimanded. She wanted to question the other woman but was kept to silence when they all heard the door to the café suddenly open. Brigit turned to find John standing in the entrance, a concerned confusion playing on his face.

“Brigit? What are you doing here?” he asked as he passed through the space the others had created upon his arrival.

“I was on an assignment,” Brigit explained. “Madam Zapatos seems to believe I have broken some territorial rules. I wasn’t aware there are territorial rules.”

“There aren’t,” John replied. “At least, for you there aren’t. Madam Zapatos? Would you care to explain your side of this?”

The Grim Reaper leveled his ice blue eyes on the Gypsy woman still sitting at the table and waited patiently. Brigit watched the other woman swallow hard and lower her eyes in embarrassment.

“I was unaware of who she is,” Madam Zapatos offered meekly. “And I didn’t believe her when she told me. I apologize.”

The words came out with a definite quiver sounding through them. Brigit couldn’t help but wonder why the other Reaper was so afraid.

“Well, in that case,” John began, “allow me to introduce Brigit Malone,” his voice rose so that everyone in the room could hear him clearly. “Miss Malone is the Assistant Reaper. In the event that I am ever unavailable, Miss Malone is next in line.”

Brigit felt all eyes on her again as John paused long enough to allow his words to sink in on every soul present. Brigit focused her gaze on Madam Zapatos, who was now looking up at her in return.

“As such,” John continued, slowly turning his gaze back to Madam Zapatos. “Brigit is exempt from Territorial Rules.”

Brigit watched her counterpart swallow hard again before sheepishly nodding in acknowledgement of John’s statement. Brigit could see clearly that her pride had been squashed. She felt sorry for the other woman, but she knew she could make no movement to display that emotion. John had just elevated her status amongst all the Reapers. For now, she would keep her distance.

“Now,” John snapped, “if you will, Brigit, please return to your duties. I’m sure you have plenty to catch up on.”

“I do,” Brigit quietly confirmed. “Where will you be?”

“I must return to the St. Petersburg office once I’m finished here,” he leveled his gaze on Brigit. “I will return to the main office when I’m done. We have other business to discuss when I do.”

Brigit met the Grim Reaper’s gazed and immediately realized that the Spanish Assistant would not be the only one to receive a reprimand from John Blackwick today.

“I’ll see you then,” Brigit replied with a nod of acknowledgement to his implied meaning.

Quickly, she turned and headed for the door, pausing long enough to retrieve her black umbrella from the boy that still carried it as if it truly were a dangerous weapon. As she crossed the square and entered the portal that would take her back to 666 ½ Bleecker Street, Brigit couldn’t help but think that it was going to be a very, very long day.

3: The Door

Mama Dee sat up as Phineus Holdaway scrambled after the child that had shot away like a lightning bolt. Quickly she climbed to her feet and watched as Louie ran the perimeter of the large back yard as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. Phineus followed directly behind the child, cursing loudly and issuing threats as he chased the boy. The fear Louie was feeling was evident on his plump face as he ran, staying just a pace beyond the angry man’s reach.

Mama Dee’s mind raced as she watched on. The foul stench from the dark side of the door Louie had managed to open stung at her nostrils as she labored to catch her breath. She had to end this. She had to save Louie and complete the assignment of crossing Phineus Holdaway to his final judgment. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her as she watched Louie round the third corner of the yard and turn in her direction.

Quickly, the old lady glanced over her shoulder at the opened door behind her. It would work if Phineus remained focused on Louie. She took two steps backward until she could feel the dark energy reaching out through the opened door. The discomfort of it did an eerie dance across the back of her neck as she hunkered down and opened her plump arms wide. Louie was coming at her fast. His eyes were bulging from his forehead with fear. Mama Dee braced herself for the impact she knew was coming. She had to be quick. This had to work…

“That’s it, Louie. Come straight to Mama Dee,” she encouraged as soon as she caught the child’s eye. “Keep on runnin’,” she called.

Louie crashed into the little old woman with a force that nearly propelled them both through the opened door. Mama Dee snapped her arms tight around the roly-poly child and twisted hard to the left as Phineus Holdaway leapt toward them in the effort to finally reach them both. His muscular arms closed around empty air as he sailed headfirst through the door to his fate. Mama Dee heard the roar of anger as he was swallowed by the darkness on the other side. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, dragging Louie up behind her. It was done. Phineus Holdaway had been crossed.

Mama Dee pulled the child behind her as she raced through the one room shack that Phineus had lived in his whole life. Her mind raced as she scolded herself for biting off more than she could chew. The child held tight to her hand as she opened the front door and stepped into the blinding light of the portal. She thought she heard a slight gasp as she pulled him along with her. All she could do to calm him for the moment was squeeze his chubby hand tightly in hers. They were safe now.

He hit the ground with a loud grunt. He had fallen head first through the doorway the old woman had created. How far he had fallen, he wasn’t sure. Slowly, Phineus rose up to his knees and looked around him. It was so dark and awful smelling…where was he?

A slight sound of movement in the darkness to his right caused him to fall back in fear. He was not alone. Phineus scrambled to his feet.

“Who’s there?” he demanded as he curled his hands into tight fists. An eerie silence surrounded him as he keened his ears for the slightest sound. A loud crack thundered through the darkness, causing him to jump back. “Who’s there, goddammit!” he screamed as he slowly began to walk backwards from the direction his mind told him the sound had come from. “I’m talkin’ to you!” he bellowed when his back firmly pressed against the wall. “You answer me!”

A light suddenly flared before him, a single flame seemingly dancing in thin air. Phineus watched the small flame as it slowly traveled toward him. He felt his curiosity grow as it danced up and down, side to side until it stopped a few paces before him. Slowly, the single flame grew until it was a small ball, still dancing orange, white and blue in mid-air. Phineus felt his fear cooling as he stood mesmerized by the light.

“Who do you think you are, boy, to give commands to us?”

The voice that slithered through the air was a low and menacing hiss that echoed off the walls hidden by the darkness. Phineus was unable to tell if it was a male or female voice that scolded him.

“Who are you?” Phineus asked. His sense of control was immediately gone again as the sickening hiss reached his ears. Fear, an emotion he had never felt as a man, was suddenly his only companion.

“We are souls, just like you; but we answer to no one,” the hiss explained. “We never have and we never will.”

“What do you want?” Phineus demanded. His sight remained focused on the dancing ball of flame before him.

“We want our freedom. We want to be loose from this place.”

“I can’t help you,” Phineus spat angrily.

“You don’t have to, boy,” the voice replied. Phineus detected the note of amusement that rode easily on the statement. “The door is open. We will help ourselves.”

Phineus raised his eyes to the darkness over his head. Far, far up against the black, he could see the light. It was tiny and constant, like a star hanging in the sky.

“What is this place?” he asked as he returned his attention to the ball of flame before him. He couldn’t control the shaking of his voice.

“This is Hell, boy,” the hiss chuckled. It echoed eerily off the walls. “Enjoy it. You’re going to be here for awhile.”

Phineus swallowed hard and closed his eyes. This was nightmare. It had to be. When he opened his eyes, he knew he would be back in his house, haunted by the memory of the boy. He would be angry when he heard the child singing again. This wasn’t real. He didn’t deserve this. He was sure of it.

The man snapped his eyes open and found that he was still surrounded by the darkness. The ball of flame was gone. Quickly, he looked around him before suddenly looking up. A gasp caught in his throat as he looked toward the star he had seen against the black canopy above. The flame was there, but it was no longer alone. Other balls of flame were following, steadily rising toward the star. Phineus roared, but from anger or fear, he couldn’t tell. His eyes watched until, one by one, they all disappeared into the light of the star.

“If they can get out, so can I,” he grumbled as he sank to the floor beneath his feet. Slowly, he drew his knees up to his chest and kept his eyes fixed on the small light so high above him. He didn’t care how long it took. Phineus Holdaway would find his way out.

Gabriel turned and stared out the window of the subway car. This wasn’t his normal mode of transportation. He was an archangel. The ability to simply part the veils of the planes was his to use at will. Today, however, he was concerned about a distressed soul and was riding the train to maintain a close watch over her. His grey eyes scanned the scenery as it flew by below. The city, even in its most dilapidated neighborhoods, was still interesting to see.

A burst of light shot up past the window, causing him to instinctively flinch away from the glass. The fireball kept pace with the train as it sped along the elevated tracks, as if it were taunting Gabriel to determine its true nature. The angel stepped close to the glass again and stared hard. Suddenly, the fireball exploded and began to take shape in mid-air. He watched in dumbfounded confusion as the shape became more and more familiar. Confusion turned to concern as he recognized the energy that laced itself together to form the image of evil that had once walked the earth as a mortal. Concern turned to alarm as his grey eyes happened to look down at the large lot the train passed over and saw the opened door standing alone in the middle of it. As his eyes snapped back to the broad smile of the demon that was free falling back to the earth below, the angel saw other balls of flame begin to explode in the air and take shape before falling into their own descents.

“This can’t be good,” Gabriel muttered as the train continued on its course, taking him further and further away from the scene. “This can’t be good at all…”

4: Surprise

Brigit returned to the office straight away. Despite the impending lecture she was sure she would receive from John, there were more important things to think about and take care of in the meantime. Besides, she had accomplished something she had never thought she would witness anytime soon. Edmund J. Polly had been reunited with his true love, Liliana. His wait was finally over. That, Brigit mused as she reached to close the door, was worth any lecture John Blackwick might dish out.

Belinda popped out of her office as soon as Brigit had closed the door.

“Oh, hello, Brigit,” she greeted coolly.

Brigit paused long enough to give the young woman a look over. She couldn’t help but notice the slight flush on the young woman’s pale cheeks. The attention from Brigit’s dark gaze caused Belinda’s flush to deepen from pink to red. She wondered if she should ask the girl the reason for the flush, but the waters were still choppy around them. Brigit decided to skip it for the moment.

“How’s everything?” she asked instead as she passed over the files for Edmund J. Polly and Liliana Margarita de la Huerta Francesco. Belinda received them without looking at them. The Assistant Reaper wondered briefly if her protégé would have any emotion toward the passing of the old man with the sad blue eyes from the café.

“Quiet,” Belinda replied matter-of-factly. “Mama Dee passed out the assignments and pretty much everyone is out working. However,” the Goth girl paused and nodded her head toward Brigit’s office, “you have a visitor.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Brigit admitted. “John is in Spain at the moment. Did you get a name?”

“Katsumi Butterworth?”

Brigit’s imagination immediately conjured the vision of a talking syrup bottle with an Asian accent. Quickly, she bit her lip to squash the amused reaction that came from the vision in her mind. Belinda noted the effort Brigit made not to laugh at the obvious error of the name she had provided. Consequently, her flush deepened in its hue.

“Anyway, she’s in your office waiting for you,” Belinda snapped.

“Thank you,” Brigit managed to mumble before the younger woman promptly turned and disappeared back into the small office she now shared with Pierce Nelson.

Brigit hung her head for a moment, wondering if she should follow the girl and apologize for her amusement. She had hurt Belinda’s feelings without meaning to. It was becoming apparent that the road to mending their relationship was going to be a slow journey. Belinda, it seemed, would take her time recovering from the loss of Seamus Flannery from her new existence. It also seemed the young woman would take her time in forgiving the part that Brigit had played in bringing that loss about. Finally, Brigit sighed and shook further thought of it all from her mind. She had a visitor. It would be rude to keep her waiting any longer than she already had.

Katuri-Buttercup was sitting in the leather visitor’s chair in front of the large mahogany desk that Brigit shared with John. Her small hands lay neatly folded in her lap as her dark, almond shaped eyes were focused on the opposite wall. Brigit paused at the office door long enough to deposit her black umbrella in the bronze umbrella holder. The sound of its tip landing against the bottom of the can caused her visitor to glance over her shoulder at the newly arrived assistant Reaper. Brigit flashed a smile.

“Hello, Katuri-Buttercup,” she greeted as she slowly unbuttoned the long black coat she wore and shrugged out of it. “What do I owe for this pleasant surprise?”

“I have been transferred,” Katuri-Buttercup announced.

Brigit stopped short with the news. John had failed to mention this tidbit of information.

“Really? To what office?” Brigit asked as she rounded the corner of the large desk and draped her coat over the back of the chair. Her dark eyes met the solemn gaze of the smaller woman as she sank into the chair’s cushion and rested her elbows on the desk.

“To this office, for the ‘Dangerous Cases’,” Katuri-Buttercup revealed. Again, Brigit was unable to conceal her surprise. The tiny woman on the other side of the desk had struck her to be capable of some serious ass-kicking skills when they had met the night before; but she had never thought they were actually used. “Takamoto and Mr. Blackwick agreed to it last night after your visit.”

“I see,” Brigit sighed. “You requested this office?” The small woman nodded. “Why?” Brigit pressed. She was still going over the impression Katuri-Buttercup had made on her during their meeting the night before. She had not guessed that she may have made an impression as well.

“There are enough Reapers in Japan to deal with dangerous assignments. No matter what generation they were born in, the Reapers there are highly capable of dealing with conflict. Besides, I know you.”

“We only met last night,” Brigit pointed out, unable to hide her amusement any longer.

She felt Katuri-Buttercup’s dark eyes boring into her. Brigit guessed the small woman missed the point of amusement. She continued to study the smaller woman for a few seconds. She could see where Katuri-Buttercup would probably work well with someone she knew, even if it was barely a knowing, rather than a complete stranger. For a moment, Brigit tried to imagine how the small Reaper would fare with Madame Zapatos. When the vision failed to materialize, Brigit let it go.

“I suppose, then, we should get you started on some assignments, eh? You know the procedure for traveling to an assignment?” Brigit asked as she glanced to the corner of the desk where she had left the files to discuss with John. It was only a glance, though, because she returned her sight to the small woman in time to see her cock her head ever-so-slightly as if to say: How do you think I came here? Brigit ignored the look. “John Blackwick has your personal file, I assume?”

“He does.”

Brigit returned her attention to the bare corner of the desk. She was sure she had left the Dangerous Assignment files there. Concern knitted her brow as she stared hard at the empty space. She had separated the other files and laid them across the desk to assign to the staff. She had left the dangerous files apart on purpose…Then, she had found Liliana’s file. She had been so excited for Edmund J. Polly. She had asked Mama Dee to take over the passing out of assignments as she had rushed from the office…

The thought that followed that last memory caused Brigit to close her eyes against the obvious conclusion as to what had happened to the missing files. She had forgotten to instruct Mama Dee to leave those particular files alone. Mama Dee, having been the Head Reaper for well over a week, would have made a decision about them on her own. Brigit sighed heavily and began to rub her forehead in the effort to fend off the phantom pangs of a migraine.

“Are you well?”

Brigit opened her eyes and looked at the newest member of the staff. Although the small woman’s face was as smooth as stone, her dark eyes were filled with concern.

“I don’t know yet,” Brigit answered quietly.

Her mind was beginning to race with the worry at what Mama Dee had decided to do. The little old woman was not a fighter, at least, not in the same sense that Brigit was capable of. Mama Dee could be fearsome; but Brigit knew that her friend’s bark was a lot worse than her bite. The scenarios beginning to play out in her mind troubled her deeply.

Mama Dee burst through the front door of the office hauling Louie in behind her. Her heart was hammering hard against her breast as she slammed the door forcefully behind them. The child stumbled in his effort to keep up with her, somehow finding a way to get his feet back under him at the last second. He was just as scared as Mama Dee even though he was sure Uncle Fin had not followed them.

The sound of the slamming door brought Belinda and Pierce scrambling from the small office they shared. The two stopped short at the sight of Mama Dee standing in the middle of the hall, her eyes wide with the panic that had taken hold of her. Together their gazes fell to the face of the pudgy little boy holding the frightened woman’s hand.

It took a few seconds for Mama Dee to realize that the Goth girl and the accountant had come to investigate the commotion. Just as her attention focused on them, a swift movement at the opposite end of the hall caught her eye. Quickly, she turned and settled her wide eyes on the fast approaching form of Brigit.

“Mama, what’s wrong? What happened?” Brigit demanded as she rushed to her dear friend’s side.

“Oh, Brigit! It was awful!”

Mama Dee threw her arms around the other woman and buried her face against Brigit’s shoulder in dramatic relief. Brigit and Belinda exchanged quick looks of confusion before Belinda returned her attention to the child still standing in the middle of the hall. Brigit followed the young woman’s gaze to see the child gazing up at the gargoyle lined ceiling in wide-eyed awe.

“I was so scared,” Mama Dee gushed. She was shaking ferociously in Brigit’s arms. Brigit knew it was only a phantom sensation – a memory of how it could feel once the adrenaline rush was finally over.

“Mama, what happened?” Brigit asked again as she gently pried Mama Dee off her and held her at arm’s length to study her face. “Who’s the kid?”

“Oh, lord, it was so awful,” the little old woman moaned again dramatically. She rubbed at her eyes with shaking hands, as if she were trying to erase what had gone on with Phineus Holdaway from her memory. “I don’t know how you do it, child. I just don’t know.”

Brigit studied her friend hard for another second before leveling her gaze on the child that was still staring at the gargoyles protruding from the ceiling. The child appeared calm despite the happenings that had shaken Mama Dee to her core. Brigit had to get the story, but from which one that story would come, she wasn’t sure. Either way, Brigit knew her first course of action had to be to calm Mama Dee down before she could fully assess the situation.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Brigit finally said calmly, hoping her own tone would ease the energy floating around the souls standing in the hall. “Come to my office and tell me what happened. Belinda,” Brigit looked at the Goth girl and Pierce Nelson. They were still watching the child as if he were an oddity. “Perhaps you and Mr. Nelson can entertain Mama’s little friend for a bit?”

“Oh, sure,” Belinda agreed. She took a step toward the boy and bent down until she was face to face with him. “Hey, little guy,” she greeted sweetly. “My name is Belinda. What’s yours?”

Brigit watched on silently as the child lowered his eyes from the garish faces on the ceiling to the pale face hanging directly in front of his. Slowly, his eyes traveled from the bright blue eyes trained on him to the face of Pierce Nelson and then to Brigit. He remained absolutely silent.

“Louie, baby, tell Miss Belinda your name,” Mama Dee instructed.

Brigit heard the forced calm that suddenly filled Mama Dee’s voice. She had collected her nerves enough to try to sound brave for the sake of the child. The child, however, maintained his silence.

“Louie,” Belinda addressed the boy, “that’s a neat name. Do you like to draw, Louie?” The child returned his attention to Belinda, as if he were processing her question. “It’s okay, you know. You’re safe here with us. Why don’t you come and play with Mr. Nelson and me?” Belinda enticed as she held out her hand to the child.

“Go on, baby. Go with Miss Belinda,” Mama Dee urged.

Slowly, Louie put his fat little hand in the pale girl’s outstretched hand and allowed her to lead him into the small room she had come from. His dark eyes, however, remained fixed on Mama Dee until he was out of sight. Slowly, Brigit turned and leveled her gaze on her friend once more. She could see that Mama Dee was quickly deflating with the last of the energy that had carried her back from where ever she had been. Brigit gently wrapped her arm around the old woman’s shoulder and turned her toward her office.

“Come on, Mama. Sit down before you fall down and tell me everything…”

5: An Angel Annoyed

His brow was deeply furrowed as he quickly scanned each face milling in the crowd around him. He had arrived as quickly as he could manage after determining that Esther Espinoza was safe from the depths of her despair. The relief he felt after leaving her deep in prayer at Our Lady of the Lilies Cathedral had been short lived as he had stepped out into the mid-morning sun and unfurled his wings. The knowledge that dark souls had escaped their fates in Hell sat heavily on his shoulders as he soared through the city looking for any sign as to their whereabouts. Time had passed since he had witnessed their escape. They could be anywhere by now.

Gabriel sighed heavily as he scanned the crowd once more. He had briefly caught sight of a dark soul before alighting on the sidewalk. There were so many mortals around. By now, Gabriel was sure, the dark energy would have found cover. He had to find it again.

The people were flowing freely from the entrance of the large building adjacent to the sidewalk. Frustrated, Gabriel turned and stared hard at its façade. Huge banners hung from the eaves of the grand building. It was a museum. The banners announced the exhibit inside. The arch-angel felt a spark of hope as he took in the advertisement of the showing of ancient religious artifacts. It was as good of an idea as any other that he could think of at the moment…

His mind churned as he passed through the crowd. He was quickly becoming very annoyed with the idea that a Reaper would be so careless as to leave a door to Hell open. As soon as he had the situation clearly assessed, Gabriel had every intention of confronting John Blackwick with the consequences of the inadequacies of his training regimen. Reapers, Inc., had caused a potential crisis. In Gabriel’s opinion, they should be held responsible for the finding of the solution.

“Gabriel?”

The arch-angel spun on his heel and faced the source of the voice that had addressed him. He had not intended to be seen as he searched for the dark soul. That fact that someone had seen him caught Gabriel by surprise. To his relief, however, it was no mere mortal he now locked eyes with. It was one of the Immortals and the Immortals were gifted with many abilities – among them, to see the unseen.

“Lancelot,” Gabriel greeted coolly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, my friend,” the smaller man replied with a chuckle. “You look as though you’re hunting for something. Did an archaeologist finally find your lost sword?”

Gabriel studied the amusement dancing through the dark man’s eyes. Lancelot had grown to possess a vast sense of humor through the ages of his existence. Even in the most serious situations, Lancelot DuLach could maintain the note of humor needed to take the edge off a moment. Gabriel, however, had a very small sense of humor and in serious moments such as the present, it was almost non-existent.

“No. I actually recovered that myself. It seems I had accidentally dropped it in the Dead Sea. Tell me, have you seen anything strange lately?” Gabriel asked seriously as his grey eyes resumed their scanning of the crowd around them. Lancelot arched a dark eyebrow in amused curiosity.

“How late are you talking? Gabriel, what’s going on?”

“A door has been left open,” the arch-angel breathed out with annoyance.

His gaze stopped in its scan and landed on a particular form seated across the room. He had finally found the object of his search. The dark soul was perched on a stone viewing bench, his black eyes staring hard at the chipped stone cross that had been recovered from a recently unearthed monastery. Lancelot turned and leveled his own eyes on the back of the perched demon. He suddenly understood his companion’s troubling concern. The amusement at the arch-angel’s annoyance was gone.

“How many are loose?” Lance asked quietly, as if the dark soul would hear him.

“Even one is too many for my comfort,” Gabriel replied.

“How can I be of assistance?”

Gabriel thought about the Immortal’s question for half a second. The Reapers were unaware of the escaped souls. The office responsible for this territory would only have a few agents, at best, capable of handling such a problem as this. Even if they immediately took action, they would still need some sort of assistance and the arch-angel had more important things to take care of. He had already wasted enough of his precious time with this detour. The Immortals could help. They could provide the necessary muscle to keep this from escalating into a long game of cat and mouse. Their presence would double the forces needed to contain this darkness and return it to its eternal fate.

“Gather your circle, Lancelot,” Gabriel instructed quietly as his grey eyes bore into the dark soul that was oblivious to his presence. “You will need to enter the spirit world.”

“Where should we meet you?”

“I must alert the Reapers. I will send them to you,” Gabriel promised.

“Very well, then. We will be waiting at the temple.”

Gabriel nodded in acknowledgement of the dark man’s statement before sensing that he had walked away. The arch-angel’s gaze burned deep into the mind of the dark soul staring so intently at the ancient cross behind the glass. He could hear the hiss of the demon’s voice as it chanted: Hell has freed us. Soon, we will be many…

6: Revelations

Brigit listened in silence as Mama Dee recounted the confrontation and crossing of Phineus Holdaway. When the little old woman had finished her tale, Brigit couldn’t help but to think something had been left out, something over looked, something left undone. The notion bugged her, but until she could put her finger on the exact nature of that something, Brigit could probe her friend no further past what she had already been told.

“What about the other assignments? What happened with those?” Brigit asked. Mama Dee reached to her waist and pulled all the files she still carried from the sash of her dress, including the assignments Brigit had originally intended for her. Hands shaking, Mama Dee set them on the desk.

“Phineus Holdaway was the first assignment. I thought it would be best to get the hard ones out of the way first. I just didn’t know how hard they could be. I’m sorry, Brigit,” Mama Dee apologized woefully. Brigit eyed her friend for a few seconds before scooping up the incomplete assignments.

“I should be the one to apologize, Mama. I should have given you better instructions. I was just so excited about Mr. Polly that I didn’t stop to think about everything. I’m glad you weren’t hurt, but, I am sorry that you were even put in that situation,” Brigit sighed as she looked at the files in her hand. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Maybe take your little friend and get some cocoa,” she suggested.

“What are you going to do?” Mama Dee asked, eyeballing the files in Brigit’s hand as if they were sticks of dynamite.

“Katuri-Buttercup and I will take care of these.”

Mama Dee looked confused at the mention of a new name. Brigit nodded her head toward the opposite wall, drawing Mama Dee’s attention to the small woman that sat with her back against the wall. Katuri-Buttercup had sensed the urgency of the moment when the Assistant Reaper had first jumped up to exit the office and inspect the commotion in the hall. When they had returned to the office, Katuri had scurried out of the way to her current spot against the wall and listened to the little old woman’s tale. What she had heard only confirmed the notion that this office was sorely in need of her talent.

“Oh, hello,” Mama Dee greeted as she met the other woman’s intense gaze.

“Hello,” Katuri responded.

“Katuri-Buttercup will be joining our offices as the Reaper in Charge of Dangerous Cases. She will be taking Mr. Flannery’s place,” Brigit revealed.

Mama Dee eyed the small woman sitting with her back against the wall. She was barely bigger than a child; yet, Mama Dee could see a depth behind her dark eyes that suggested Katuri-Buttercup could be a force to be reckoned with.

Brigit watched as Mama Dee finally pushed herself from the chair and exited the office without another word. She felt for her friend. Mama Dee had tried to act as Brigit would have, but the responsibility had been too much. Brigit felt even worse for the fact that she had not contained her excitement about true love long enough to stop and be more precise in her directions. That, coupled with the nagging sensation that something was amiss in Mama Dee’s account of the assignment, weighed heavily on Brigit’s conscience.

John sighed heavily as he stepped into the square outside the café that served as the Madrid office. Madam Zapatos had engaged him in conversation longer than he would have preferred. The woman’s inquiries regarding Brigit had left him feeling somewhat uneasy, but he had every confidence that Brigit could – and would – easily draw boundaries if the need were to arise. Now, he had to make quick time back to the St. Petersburg office where he had discovered a mess in the procedure for completing the records. If it became too complicated for the Russians to comprehend, John had already decided that he would pull Belinda Yaris to the office to straighten it all out. In the meantime, he felt as if he had to at least make the effort to instruct the Russian staff before he passed it off to someone else.

“John Blackwick,”

John looked up at the sound his name. He was startled to see the steady glare of the grey eyes that were focused on him. It had been years since their last meeting and John had been meaning to request an audience with the arch-angel to express his gratitude for saving Brigit’s existence. The fact that Gabriel stood before him now with such an intense expression on his beautiful face made John uneasy.

“Gabriel, what a surprise,” John greeted. “What brings you here?”

“There is a situation that requires your immediate attention,” Gabriel replied. John’s uneasiness was amplified by the obvious avoidance of pleasantries on the arch-angel’s part. Gabriel was a stickler for manners. It was not like him to ignore his own rules.

“You have to be kidding me,” John groaned.

“I assure you I am not,” Gabriel snapped.

John leveled his ice blue eyes on the arch-angel. The statement had been meant more as a protest to yet another obstacle to his day’s agenda rather than to the news that had been delivered. Gabriel was obviously in a foul mood and had no patience for anything but the point of his mission. John sighed heavily.

“What is the situation and how bad is it? Can my assistant not handle it?”

“Your assistant will need to be a part of the solution, Blackwick. The situation is that a door has been left open.”

Gabriel paused to give John the time to process the revelation. The shock that registered in John’s eyes almost alleviated Gabriel’s mood; but not fully. That would take hours to be set right again. He watched as John began to run a mental strategy through his mind. He realized that John Blackwick would eventually come to the conclusion that he did not have enough qualified Reapers on staff to solve the dilemma. Gabriel waited patiently for that fact to present itself in the Grim Reaper’s thinking. When it did, John met the angel’s serious expression once more. Before he could form the question, Gabriel raised a graceful hand to silence him.

“I’ve already recruited further assistance for you. Lancelot DuLach is awaiting you at the Avalonian Temple.” John’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“The Immortals, I see. Will you be assisting as well?” John asked. A wry smile touched the angel’s lips.

“No.”

“Why not?” The directness of the question brought back the serious and almost dangerous look to the arch-angle’s grey eyes.

“I’m just the messenger this time, Reaper. Be grateful for that much,” Gabriel replied tersely. “Now, I do suggest that you be quick in closing the door before more souls manage to make their way out.”

John watched as Gabriel turned and made his way across the square before entering the spirit café John had just left. He still had questions. He needed more details. How many had been allowed to escape through the opened door? How many had Gabriel seen?

For half a second, John considered following the angel and demanding his assistance; but John knew it would get him no where. No one made demands of an angel of Gabriel’s importance. Besides, Gabriel could be aggressively stubborn if he felt slighted in the most meager of ways.

Time was of the essence, Gabriel had said. Frustrated, John turned and entered the portal as he uttered the address for 666 ½ Bleecker Street. Surely, Brigit would be aware that something was amiss by now. It was the least John could hope for at this point…

7: Louie

Belinda couldn’t help but to stare back at the child that sat staring at her. Mama Dee had stepped in long enough to announce that she was going out on a cocoa run and that she would be back soon. At first, the little boy looked frightened at the prospect of Mama Dee leaving him behind; but the little old woman assured the child she would be back soon. When he seemed convinced, Belinda watched as he settled into the chair she had placed him in upon his arrival and commenced staring at her. If she hadn’t found the child’s stare a welcomed distraction from the obvious glances from Pierce Nelson, Belinda was sure she would have found it rather unnerving.

Louie was a cute kid, Belinda thought. He was a roly-poly child – the kind that looked sweet until one really watched them for any length of time. Then, one could see all sorts of mischief that hid behind such innocent eyes. Belinda wondered what kind of trouble this little one had been in before his end. The child appeared healthy. This particular thought pushed Belinda into wondering how Louie had actually died.

She was about to return to her work when she saw the child suddenly slide from his seat. The rapidity of the movement held her attention.

“Louie, where are you going, sweetie?” Belinda asked as the child suddenly stood perfectly still where his feet had landed on the floor. She watched as Louie closed his eyes and clenched his little fists into tight balls by his side. The boy started to shake, as if he were trying to fight something… as if he might suddenly be sick.

Louie couldn’t help it. It was coming over him again, but this time it felt different. There was no fear behind it. Mama Dee had made sure there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. She had taken him far away from Uncle Fin. He could never hurt Louie again. This song, though, was rising hard and fast inside him. The pale girl was staring at him. He couldn’t help himself…

Belinda watched as the child opened his mouth and began to sing at the top of his lungs. The sudden punctuation of sound caused Pierce Nelson to jump with surprise and stare in silent awe at the child standing beside Belinda’s desk. The words he sang made no sense to either of the Reapers as they listened. Belinda, however, found them somewhat familiar despite their lack of meaning. She was sure she had heard them somewhere before; but at the moment, she couldn’t remember where.

A slight movement in the doorway tore Belinda’s attention from Louie. She shouldered an apologetic shrug at Brigit before returning her bright blue eyes to the child held so firmly in the grip of song. He was singing so loudly and beautifully that Belinda guessed it would only be a matter of minutes before Louie held the whole office as a captive audience.

Brigit stood in the doorway as the child sang. She knew the song. She had followed it from the burning river during the illness of her infection. She didn’t know the words or what they meant in literal translation; but she knew the song had helped her find her way back from the brink of fevered insanity. If there was anything Seamus Flannery had ever told her in truth, it was that remaining in the fire would drive her to madness. As she listened, Brigit wondered how the child would know this song, and if he had any idea of the power contained in its notes.

As she listened, Brigit was led to a final thought of the burning river. It was a thought that Seamus Flannery had been right about something else. He would always be around when she least expected it.

Brigit looked to her right as the main door to the office opened and John Blackwick entered. A look of confusion washed over his face as he stopped just inside the door; quickly replacing the intense expression of concern that Brigit had barely caught a glimpse of.

“What is that racket?” John asked before Brigit could shush him.

She nodded toward the interior of the small office Belinda shared with Pierce. The Grim Reaper closed the main door behind him and stepped to the doorway where Brigit stood, only to freeze at the sight of the little boy that held everyone in such rapt attention. John looked over his shoulder at Brigit, but she had returned her attention to the child. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Louie felt the last note flow from him as he closed his mouth. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was surprised to see all the faces that were staring back at him. For a second, he thought he might be in trouble for causing such a ruckus; but no one said anything. His singing had never held an audience. Uncle Fin had always yelled at him to shut up. The tall dark lady was smiling peacefully at him. Did she know the meaning of the song he had sung? Why were these people just watching him?

“That was beautiful, Louie,” the pale woman with the bright blue eyes told him gently. The child quickly dropped his eyes to the floor beneath his feet and clasped his hands tightly in front of him. He had never been praised before. Never.

The sound of the door opening again took everyone’s attention off the suddenly embarrassed child. Mama Dee entered, bearing a cup in each hand. She stopped short at the sight of Brigit and John standing in the main hall outside Belinda’s office. She knew Louie was in the small room, and John’s ice blue eyes on her caused Mama Dee’s heart to take a guilty skip. She had hoped to have some time to further recover from her ordeal before facing the Grim Reaper again. His sudden presence in the office when she knew he was supposed to be somewhere else made her all the more uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” Mama Dee asked at once, hoping that Louie had caused no trouble while she had been out.

“Louie sang us a song,” Brigit answered.

“Why is there a child in this office?” John asked. The question came out sharper than he had intended. Mama Dee flinched with its edge.

“I can explain,” Mama Dee offered quickly.

“I’ll explain,” Brigit interrupted.

She had also caught the edge in Johns’ voice. Something was wrong. His early arrival at the office had already signaled as much to her, but the agitation in his voice confirmed it.

“Mama, sit with Louie while I talk to John,” Brigit instructed gently. Mama Dee nodded guiltily and disappeared into Belinda’s office.

Without another word, Brigit turned and led the way to the office she shared with John. She could tell by his dead silence that something was urgently wrong. Brigit paused beside the door and watched as her mentor sank into the chair before the desk rather than the large chair behind the desk. He did not notice as Katuri-Buttercup took her chance to leave the office. Brigit only nodded to the smaller woman as she exited.

“Close the door, Brigit,” John sighed heavily.

Brigit silently obeyed before making her way to the chair John had left vacant. She leveled her eyes on the pensive man as she sank into the chair. She wondered if he had chosen his seat purposely or if it had been a simple matter of convenience.

“What’s going on, John?” Brigit asked softly.

“We have a serious problem,” he began. “I have been informed that a door has been left open somewhere. Dark souls have been let out and there is the potential for more to escape. Who was handling Dangerous Assignments?”

Brigit had heard every word clearly. The news that souls had escaped rushed her mind to the question John had asked before he had even uttered the word ‘who’. The nagging notion that something was amiss in Mama Dee’s tale of her encounter with Phineus Holdaway suddenly made itself apparent. Slowly, Brigit took a deep breath and let it out just as slow.

“It’s my fault,” she began. John barely blinked at her reply.

“Who was handling Dangerous Assignments,” John asked again. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“No, it wasn’t; but let me explain,” Brigit rebutted firmly.

“Make it quick, Brigit,” John snapped impatiently. “This is a serious situation and we’re being charged with rectifying it. It was Gabriel who alerted me to what has happened. That in itself should tell you how dire this situation is and it’s all the more distressing because he is refusing to personally help us with it. He did manage to recruit some assistance for us, however. The Immortals are awaiting our arrival at the temple so we can start to resolve this. Time is not on our side. So, tell your tale quickly and let’s go.”

Brigit met John’s icy glare coolly. His patience was worn thin as it was. All the details of Mama Dee’s tale would only erode what was left of it. Normally, the lack of emotion in her mentor’s eyes would bother her; but at the moment, Brigit knew John was overly annoyed and trying to hard to control it.

Calmly, she sighed and told the basic truth of it all. She had neglected to properly direct Mama Dee, who – as a result – had taken it upon herself to complete an assignment that was beyond her capabilities as a Reaper. When she finished talking, Brigit watched as John pursed his already thin lips and looked away as if to focus his thoughts. He wanted to scold her for her short-sightedness, for her silly notions that had led to all the hurtles this day was seeming to possess. There was no time for that, however. There were more pressing matters at hand. Finally, John retuned his ice blue eyes to his assistant’s face.

“The child can not stay,” he said firmly.

“I am aware of that,” Brigit replied calmly. “I will take care of that when I return.”

“Yes, you will,” John declared. “In the meantime, gather the available staff and let’s go.”

8: The Immortals

Lance looked up as the main door of the temple could be heard to open behind him. He had been lost in thought prior to that moment, waffling between the wonderment as to why Cahira had not joined him yet and a deep sense of gratitude that the High Priestess, Sola, had left for a short vacation just that morning. The interim priestess had wasted no time assisting him into the prolonged trance that would allow him to move through the spirit world as the Reapers did. He only hoped that Cahira would have enough time to go deep enough into that same trance by the time she finally arrived.

Lance watched as the Reapers began to file in. To his relief, Cahira was amongst them, following closely behind John Blackwick. Although they had met only once some fifty years back, Lance was grateful to see a familiar face leading the group. He had heard through the grapevine that Araxius Herodotus and all the old timers had retired. He had not heard who had been left in charge.

His eyes settled on Cahira as the group approached. Something was different about her. The long, black coat she wore was unusual – as if she had been called away from a costume party; but it was spring. Lance could think of no reason that his god-daughter would be attending a costume party in the middle of spring. Slowly, his hazel eyes traveled to her hand. She was carrying a black umbrella instead of the long sword she had left Avalon with. Cahira without her sword was like a rose without its thorns. It was not natural.

This thought brought Lance’s studious gaze up to the dark woman’s eyes. Ah, this is not Cahira…he realized as he met the dark gaze that was studying him as hard as he was studying her. Cahira’s eyes were electric blue – like her father’s. The eyes that Lance looked into now were black, as if the depths behind them offered the abyss a soul could surely drown in.

“Lancelot,” John Blackwick addressed the Immortal that had stood to greet them. “I wish I could say it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“As do I, Blackwick,” Lance replied coolly as they shook hands in greeting. “So, you’re the Grim Reaper now?”

“I am,” John confirmed. “Are you alone?” The tone of his question betrayed his concern.

“I hadn’t thought so. Your Reaper there had me confused for a moment,” Lance admitted as he nodded in the direction of the dark female standing silently beside John. “Almost everyone in my circle is unusually preoccupied, I’m afraid. I’m only waiting for Cahira.”

“I see,” John sighed. He knew Cahira. They had crossed paths on occasion over the years and the Grim Reaper was somewhat relieved the female Immortal would be joining them. “This is my assistant, Brigit Malone. Brigit, this is Lancelot DuLach,” John introduced. Brigit stepped toward the short man and extended her hand in greeting.

“DuLach? That’s an unusual name. Any relation to Sola?” Brigit asked quietly as Lance took her offered hand.

“Yes, a relation. Do you know her?” Lance asked just as quietly. He had suddenly stiffened at the mention of Sola’s name. He had been grateful she was absent from the scene. He had not been prepared to meet a spirit that new her.

“We are friends,” Brigit replied as her dark eyes bored into him. She had felt him stiffen with her question of Sola. She watched as a minute worm of discomfort started to squirm behind the Immortal’s hazel eyes as he tried to shield his thoughts regarding the Blue Witch. He had kept his secret a long time. He would keep it longer, if at all possible.

“I see,” he simply said as he released the dark woman’s hand.

She had used the present tense in her explanation to knowing Sola. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth, causing that worm of discomfort to wiggle a little harder in Lancelot’s gut. What could this Reaper see behind his eyes?

“Lance,” John interrupted, “this is Mama Dee and Katuri-Buttercup,” he said as he proceeded to introduce the two smaller women standing silently to the side. “Unfortunately, I have no other immediate staff available either. I have two out in the field, wherever they may be at this moment and two record keepers who are charged with a task they can not abandon at present. Our office here still runs with a minimum crew for now, I’m afraid,” John explained.

Lance politely shook hands with each of the smaller women, grateful to be distracted from the exchange with Brigit Malone. The Immortal was about to return his attention to the Grim Reaper when the door to the temple opened again. A wave of relief washed over him as the woman came striding in, her electric blue eyes quickly assessing the gathered souls before finally settling on him. The hilt of her long sword rose over her left shoulder from where it rode across her back. She was prepared. Cahira had finally arrived.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she apologized when she was in earshot of the small group. “There was a situation to take care of first. Why are you all staring at me?”

“Sorry, love,” John apologized. “The similarity is remarkable.” He could suddenly understand Lance’s confusion at first sight of Brigit.

“Similarity to what?” Cahira asked. Confusion quickly settled on her face.

“To me,” Brigit replied as she stepped from behind John.

The reply caused the electric blue eyes to shift and focus on her. The two women silently appraised on another. They were identical in height and stature. The only visible differences were the color of their eyes and the blue tattoos that trailed down Cahira’s arms from under the rolled up sleeves of her shirt. By the intricate scales she could see tattooed on the other woman’s wrists, Brigit guessed the artwork to be one of the symbols of Avalon that she had only recently become familiar with – the twin serpents.

“Everyone, this is Cahira,” Lancelot announced. “Now that we’re all here, how do we do this, Blackwick?”

“I have no idea,” John admitted quietly. “There’s no way of knowing the names of those that have escaped and it not our policy to reap without a name or a portfolio.”

“And what’s your policy on open doors?” Lance asked, a slight note of amusement dancing on his words.

John tore his eyes from the two women that stood side-by-side and leveled them on the other man. John guessed the look on his face to have been one of severe annoyance. He would never have imagined Lancelot DuLach, brave knight of legend and fearless Immortal, to shrink before anyone’s gaze – not even the Grim Reaper’s.

“There’s a first time for everything, Lancelot. Even in the spirit world.”

“So, how do we fix this?” Lance asked again. This time, there seemed to be a slight more respect to his tone.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance,”

All heads turned at the sound of the warm voice that drifted through the large room of the temple. John and Brigit were surprised, yet relieved, to see Jean-Pierre Marchande standing just inside the main door. Brigit was the first to notice the thin scroll in his graceful hand.

“Jean, how can you help us?” John asked. The Bailey raised the scroll for all to see as a smile flitted across his perfect face.

“Let’s just say that my regularly scheduled program was interrupted,” the beautiful man jested as he approached the group. The smile continued to play across his face as he extended the scroll to John. “These are the names of the souls that have escaped so far. I was given them just a short while ago. I do apologize for my stationary. I had just run out of blanks when the call came in.”

Brigit took a better look at the paper John held between his hands. It was a ratty piece of newspaper, torn and faded from being blown about for so long. Over the faded newsprint, she saw the short list of names written in graceful curls and strokes. It was a far cry from the long black portfolios the Bailey normally used to record information; but at the moment, it was better than nothing.

“How did you get the names?” Lance asked, curious as to how the angelic looking man would have access to information the Grim Reaper would not. Jean-Pierre flitted his fingers around his ear and smiled broadly.

“Vox dei,” he replied.

Brigit and Cahira arched a dark eyebrow each in unison. Jean-Pierre had spoken in Latin. They had understood him to say: Voice of God. The two women exchanged curious glances before returning their attention to their leaders.

“Well, in that case,” Lance sighed, “I’m glad we’ve overcome the first obstacle. Cahira, perhaps you should go find the priestess so she can assist you into trance.”

“There’s no need,” Cahira negated. “I’m already there. My body is safe, trust me,” she assured Lancelot as the look of concern passed through his hazel eyes. “Besides,” Cahira raised a hand and pushed back the black bangs that covered her forehead. The movement revealed a small blue crescent moon tattooed on her forehead just below the hairline. Brigit recognized it as another symbol of Avalon. “I require no assistance from a priestess not trained on Avalon’s isle.”

Brigit caught the note of disdain in the other woman’s voice.

“Very well, then,” Lance sighed again. “Say the word, Blackwick. We’re ready when you are.”

“Unfortunately, time is not on our side,” John pointed out. “So, we can’t exactly formulate a decent strategy. First and foremost, we do need to close the door that was left open. Brigit, I give that responsibility to you.” Brigit nodded in acceptance of the order. “There are only three names on this list,” John turned his eyes to the Bailey. “I will assume that if you receive more you will deliver them straight away?” Jean-Pierre nodded accordingly. “Good. Without their proper portfolios, we are unaware of exactly what they are capable of, so it would be best to assume the worst. These souls were sent to Hell, after all. Bearing that in mind, it is my opinion that we hunt in pairs.”

“What do we do when we find them? Do we send them back to where they came from?”

It was Katuri-Buttercup to ask the question. John looked at the small Reaper for a few seconds. It was a valid question. John had been trying to develop a plan as he dished out the instruction, but Katuri’s question demanded that the Grim Reaper get to the ultimate point.

“You can try. If they resist,” John paused to make sure it was the edict he wanted to issue. Finally he nodded to himself. He was sure. “Reap by any means necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Lance asked.

“It means Limbo,” Cahira answered solemnly.

The two Immortals exchanged serious glances. Brigit caught the slight movements of both their hands reaching to touch the tips of the scabbards resting against their backs. Slowly, she looked to Cahira’s face and saw a level of seriousness there that troubled her. It was as though the magnitude of Cahira’s own answer had finally hit the bottom of the pool.

“You are correct, Cahira,” John confirmed.

“Let’s get this ball rolling,” Lance cut in. “John, the names, please?”

As John tore the scroll into thirds, Brigit glanced at Mama Dee and Katuri-Buttercup. They were unprepared for confrontation. Mama Dee had paled some during John’s instructions, as if she might be sick over having to face another ordeal so soon. Quickly, Brigit walked over to them.

“Take this,” she said quietly as she pushed her black umbrella into Mama Dee’s hand. The old woman looked surprised. “Use it to stab if you have to. Do no hesitate, even for a second,” Brigit instructed firmly, looking deep into her friend’s eyes to drive her point home.

Before Mama Dee had a chance to respond, Brigit turned away and resumed her place beside Cahira. She watched in silence as John stepped forward and handed a section of the ripped up scroll to Mama Dee. Brigit could see the frustration and guilt clearly on the old woman’s weary face. Katuri-Buttercup’s face was as polished stone. It revealed not even the slightest hint of thought or emotion toward what might lie before them. Brigit had the hope that the small Reaper would understand that the daily operations were not normally so chaotic.

“Mama Dee and Miss Buttercup, you will be together,” John said quietly. “Stay safe.”

Brigit caught the undertone of concern in his voice. He was unsure whether the two small female Reapers could complete the task. Yet, they were all that were available to assist at the moment. Shelly Longmont and Cornelius Hager were busy with their assignments for the day. Brigit suddenly shared a feeling of concern as she watched the pair walk away.

John turned and passed the next assignment to Brigit.

“Remember the door first,” he reminded.

“I will,” Brigit promised.

“Cahira, please be aware that even in the spirit world, you can be at risk of serious injury. Keep your guard up,” Lance warned. Cahira appeared somewhat offended that he would issue such a reminder to her.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Lancelot,” she growled.

“I’m just saying,” Lance began. He was cut short by the act of his god-daughter turning and walking away. Brigit shrugged in apology before striding away in the other woman’s wake.

“How hard can this be?” Lance asked, finally turned to face John Blackwick and Jean-Pierre.

“Don’t count the chickens before they hatch, my friend,” John sighed.

9: Choice

Gabriel raised the glass to his lips and sipped slowly. He may have been too harsh in his final words to John Blackwick. The arch-angel, however, had meant to prove a point. He could not rue how that point had been delivered now.

The Reaper’s business had become sloppy as of late. John Blackwick was lax in his control compared to the previous heads of the firm. While his assistant, Brigit Malone, was capable of running the operations in John Blackwick’s absence, Gabriel felt that the current staff – Brigit included – was still too closely in touch with their emotions. In his opinion, it was this fact that had led to the fiasco on the mountain top a few weeks prior when the arch-angel had been pulled from a task to oversee the demise of the rogue Reaper, Seamus Flannery. If only Brigit Malone had not held so tightly onto her love for Maggie Devon…

Araxius Herodotus would never have allowed things to escalate to such a point, Gabriel mused as he took another sip. The previous Grim Reaper had run the firm with an iron fist. He allowed no room for petty, mortal emotions. Reapers were expected to behave in a non-emotional, professional manner. John Blackwick, it appeared, seemed to be the exact opposite of his now-absent mentor. Emotions on the job were allowed. Gabriel shook his head with the thought of it all.

“Your thoughts appear heavy, my friend,”

Gabriel looked up from his glass and leveled his grey eyes on the face of the gnarled old man that had approached his table from the shadows. The sight that met his eyes did not startle him. The Divine was always beautiful, no matter what form it chose to take.

“I am disappointed, I will admit,” Gabriel replied quietly. The gnarled old man hobbled a step closer, shaking his grizzled head and laughing lightly.

“You must remember something, my friend. Everything that exists, whether seen or unseen, mortal or no – they all have a choice. Even you, my beloved, have a choice in all that you do. You, an arch-angel, could turn your eyes away from the Divine as easily as you keep them there. Do not allow your disappointment to shadow this fact.”

Gabriel looked away from his companion and sighed. He understood what the Divine was telling him. The emotions of the Reapers, no matter how inane, were theirs to embrace. The choice was always theirs and he could not judge them for it. Judgment belonged solely to the Divine.

When he looked back to where the old man had been standing, Gabriel found him gone. The angel pursed his thin lips together and raised his glass again.

“Just because they made their choice doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled before taking another sip.

10: Looking for Louie, Part 1

Belinda sighed heavily and sank into the chair behind Mama Dee’s small desk. Brigit had pulled her aside before leaving and quietly instructed her to find Louie’s file. Although Mama Dee had been crossing children almost since the moment she had joined the firm, there were still three boxes of backlogged assignments to be completed. The box at the top of the stack sat opened with its contents half depleted. Belinda wondered briefly how Mama Dee determined which files to complete first.

During the couple of weeks that she had filled in for Mama Dee, Belinda had not touched the files in the boxes. The unfortunate fact was that, as time progressed, it seemed more and more children’s files were being delivered by Jean-Pierre. It was those files that Belinda had been instructed to take care of during her time as the children’s Reaper. Sadly, it had been enough to keep her busy.

She was grateful for the assignment Brigit had given her. It gave her the chance to further escape the incessant glances from Pierce Nelson. She had turned him down for a coffee date and, now, Belinda was beginning to think he had missed the point of her decline all together. He’s not my type. Besides, she told herself as she reached inside the top box and withdrew as many portfolios as her hand could hold, I’m in mourning. He should know that…

She had to find Louie’s file. Brigit would cross the child as soon as she returned from whatever crisis John Blackwick had whisked them away to deal with. Belinda had tried to eavesdrop on that conversation, but she had been distracted by watching the child Mama Dee had brought back to the main office. Most of the conversation between the other Reapers had been exchanged in whispers. That, coupled with the wonderment as to why Louie refused to talk, kept Belinda too distracted to grasp the full scope of the situation.

“A last name would be nice,” Belinda muttered as she began scanning the names embossed on the long black portfolios. “Louie, Louie, who are you?” she sighed as she picked up each file and set it aside before reaching for the next.

11: The Door, Part 2

He felt like he had been sitting the darkness for so long. His eyes remained fixed on the light that shone so far above. The others had gone into that light. He had come from it. He wanted to go back. How did they do it? How had they managed to soar through the foul, thin air and disappear through the opening?

Thoughts were churning through his mind at a high velocity as his dark eyes remained focused on the last sliver of hope. Those thoughts were just a part of another one of his nightmares. He was sure of it. They tumbled and roiled off the walls of his mind as he leaned against the slimy, damp wall behind him. Questions of ‘how’ continued to erupt like geysers across an open field. One after the other, ideas came and went. Prayers were started and abruptly ended when his anger sparked to no avail. Beneath it all, Phineus Holdaway could feel his fear running a steady pace.

A scream erupted from somewhere in the darkness.

Phineus turned his eyes to the direction the scream had come from. The darkness surrounding him was impenetrable. Not even the slightest outline of a shadow could be seen. He couldn’t tell how big the space was that held him. He was too afraid to find out. The scream erupted again. It sounded awful – as if someone was being tortured… The anger drained from him fast as the sound pierced his mind. Phineus pulled his knees tighter to his chest and looked back up to the light above.

This was all the boy’s fault, Phineus thought. Louie George had been nothing but a burden since the day he was delivered to Phineus’ doorstep. The man had been given no choice in taking the child. The social worker had been too quick in explaining the situation of Phineus’ long lost sister suddenly dying as she handed the child’s suitcase to the stunned and drunken man before pushing the child toward him in its wake. Phineus barely had a second to ask if there would be any money to come with the child before the woman had turned and walked away. Six months later, he had found himself with his large hands around the child’s neck, squeezing the life out of him – silencing him forever.

Or so Phineus had thought.

The child’s incessant singing had made his head hurt. It drove him mad. The child never spoke. He just sang. Phineus had never been able to understand a single word of the song. The noise of it left him no space for the thoughts that passed through his drunken mind. It left him no peace to wallow in his misery. When he had finally snapped, he had intended to shut the child up forever. Yet, the child had continued to haunt him. Long after the body had been buried and the years resumed their intoxicated procession, Phineus could still hear the child singing. His madness had continued.

Another tortured scream shot through the darkness. There was a different tone to it this time and Phineus began to wonder just how many others there were down here in the darkness. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, keeping one hand firmly against the slimy wall at his back. He had to get out of here before the torturers came to find him. He had to find a way out like the others had; but how?

Brigit heard a slight whisper of relief escape her companion as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the small, ramshackle house. Cahira released the grip she had on the Reaper’s arm and stepped back to examine where they had arrived. Brigit watched as the other woman quickly surveyed their immediate area, ready to spring into action if it were needed. As if to hide her thoughts, Brigit opened the file Mama Dee had given her on Phineus Holdaway. The contents of the file were still present. If the door had been closed, and the assignment properly completed, all that would have remained would have been the name and dates. The fact that everything about the man was still present on the pages confirmed that the assignment had indeed been left undone.

“Is this the place?” Cahira asked when she was sure they were safe.

“It is,” Brigit confirmed. “I believe Mama Dee said that the door was located around the back.”

Together, they walked through the overgrown yard and around the house in silence. Brigit could feel Cahira’s readiness for battle. The energy emanated off the tattooed woman in waves. Though she was just as alert, Brigit maintained her focus on finding the open door.

To her relief, she finally spied it beside the garden shed – right where Mama Dee had said it would be. Casually, Brigit strode across the big backyard while Cahira waited tensely beside the back porch. Although Phineus Holdaway had crossed the threshold to his fate, Mama Dee’s missed steps to the assignment’s completion had left the door wide open.

“Phineus Holdaway, may you find eternal peace,” Brigit intoned before reaching out and closing the door firmly. As it faded from view, she turned and faced her companion who was watching with great interest from her spot next to the porch.

“That’s it?” Cahira called out.

“That’s it,” Brigit answered. “Simple as that.”

“Why did you wish him ‘eternal peace’? He’s in Hell.”

“His fate was his choice. I hope he will eventually find some sort of peace with that knowledge,” Brigit explained as she tucked the now empty portfolio of Phineus Holdaway into her coat pocket and turned to close the space between them. “It is protocol to wish every soul we pass ‘eternal peace’ whether they deserve it or not,” she continued as she came to stand before Cahira. “Shall we go?”

The final wish drifted down through the foul air to his ears. By the time he understood what was now a whisper compared to the screaming that tore through his mind, Phineus realized he was truly damned. He looked up quickly at the light just in time to see it go out. The door had been closed. He would never return to the light now.

12: The Darkness

His dark eyes watched the flame as it danced steadily on the blackened wick.

Everything was as it had been since his last mortal breath had finally escaped him. He had been praying then, begging Divine Forgiveness for the suspicions he had held about his dearest friend, Patrick. He had been waiting for the voice of God to whisper to him, to tell him what he should do. His eyes had remained intent on the flame. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Wait patiently for the gentle flutter of breath that would brush his cheek to let him know the Divine was listening. Another breath in. Another breath out…

The touch on his shoulder had been firmer than what he was used to feeling from the Divine. Its weight had startled him to the point of turning. The sight of Death standing behind him had made him gasp. When the bald man in black robes had removed his icy hand and simply exited the room, Jacob had quickly come to the conclusion that he was not intended to be a part of the light that would shine itself on Patrick Devlin’s dark deeds. The Divine was saving him the heartache of betraying the only friend he had ever known.

It had taken some time to move through the questions. The grief in his heart eventually subsided. After it did so, he had eventually returned to his meditation and prayer, his dark eyes focused on the wavering flame of the candle that never burned out. It was all he could do. He was aware of his situation. Jacob accepted it; but his heart – the heart that no longer beat a mortal beat – still hang heavy within his soul. His last thoughts had been of the darkness that surrounded Patrick Devlin during their last meeting. Patrick had seemed off, talking in riddles that Jacob could not decipher. Then, there were the various beginnings to tales that ended abruptly – as if Patrick had suddenly deemed them inappropriate for his friend’s ears.

All these thoughts were still present within his mind as he prayed.

The flame flickered oddly, drawing him from his thoughts. His gazed narrowed as the flame jumped on the blackened wick, swaying to and fro as if a gentle breeze were blowing against it. His heart beat (though he knew it was long silent) quickened at the sight of it. Was the Divine finally giving him a sign? Would he finally hear the voice of God?

A slight movement in the shadows drew his gaze away from the tiny flame. Jacob had not heard the door to his small apartment open, yet, every sense he still possessed told him clearly that he was no longer alone. Calmly, his eyes searched the dim corners that the candle’s light did not penetrate. Breathe in, breathe out…

“Who’s there?”

His voice was dry in the asking. The sound of it through the stale air sounded weak. It was the first time he had spoken since his last mortal breath. Silence rushed in behind the inquiry. Had he imagined the perception of another’s energy? Jacob waited patiently. Patience had been a virtue he had practiced as a man. He had carried it with him in death.

Finally, the shadow moved again and he narrowed his eyes to have a better view. He could see the outlines of its shape against the blackness. The shadow was shrouded in rags of smoke that barely changed shape as it moved. The foul stench rising from them was unmistakable. Sulfur mixed with the scent of brimstone – the odor of eternal damnation.

“Speak,” Jacob commanded softly.

“Who are you to command me like a dog?”

The voice that answered him came through the stale air as a dry hiss. He did not flinch when it reached his ears. Fear did not raise its head as his mind conceived the notion that all his senses had been alerting him to. Something dark was at hand. Something from the bowels of Hell had come to him. Was this the moment he would finally face his fate?

I have tried to live as you would have wished me to live; but if this is your decision, Lord, so be it… Jacob prayed as he waited for the foul shadow to further emerge.

“Come closer, please,” he requested out loud. “I can not see you so well there in the darkness.”

A grizzly chuckle resounded through the room in reply to his request. The shadow took a few steps closer and paused just outside the faint halo cast by the light of the candle. Jacob narrowed his eyes a little tighter as he searched for any sign of the demon’s face. Finally, pitch black orbs could be seen and Jacob looked deep into them still feeling no fear.

“I always felt that you never could see me so well,” the voice hissed.

Jacob could hear the bitter amusement that laced the statement.

“Your eyes were always so focused on something you would never be able to see. Even now, as a ghost stuck on this plane of existence, your eyes remain focused on the idea of a lover whose face you will never lay eyes on. Your heart is only open with the hope that your god is so near at hand.”

“Who are you to say such things? You do not know me,” Jacob responded quietly.

“But I do know you. I know you too well. It is I who was never truly known,” the voice responded with bitter amusement.

“Then tell me who you are,”

The shadow took another step closer and, for the first time, fear began a slow creep through Jacob Lior. The face, despite the lesions burning through the jaundiced and rotting flesh was familiar to him. He had known this face as a man. He had held this person so dear to his heart – almost as dearly as he held the Divine. The shock that next caused Jacob to gasp out loud. Sadness and disbelief pulled him to his feet.

“Hello, Jacob,” the demon greeted with a wry smile. The yellow of his teeth gave color to the stench that rose off the rags that were once his clothes. “Do you have time for an old friend?”

The demon extended a gnarled tangle that looked more like a hag’s claw than a hand in greeting. Jacob only glanced at it before returning his startled eyes to the pitch black gaze of his visitor.

“Patrick, what has happened to you?”

13: Freedom

Her eyes searched quickly as she passed through the throngs of mortals hurtling along the sidewalk. She recognized the scenery despite the fact that she had never visited the city during her mortal life. The gang had been content terrorizing the southwestern part of the country. The bigger cities were beyond their aspirations for dominion. As she pushed against the flow, she realized the logic of the other chief’s thoughts. Better to be the only shark in the pond than just another piranha in the ocean…

She was going where her mind told her to go. She had heard stories of the early days of Hell’s Kitchen. She had heard tales of the dark deeds that had happened there before the city had managed to mask the underworld with a cloak of decency. She hoped to find exactly what she was looking for there.

Hell had been her home ever since the dark woman had arrived that day with the red-headed man. During the fight, Vida had thought she was reliving her glory days as the Chupacabra queen. It had been such a long time since she had felt that much excitement. The dark woman had been lucky, though, surprising Vida with a swift kick that had propelled her through the door leading straight to Hell. Given the opportunity again, Vida knew she would pay more attention to her surroundings.

Hell had been interesting, Vida thought as she continued to walk. There had been moments of sheer torture and there had been moments of delight while delving into dark lust. She had encountered demons and dark souls that had sought to break her, to control her, to eternally make her pay for her choices as a mortal; but in the end, it was she who had conquered and demanded a price. She had learned a thing or two in the short time she had been there and the woman had every intention of putting that new knowledge to use. She was free again. She had no one to answer to, no one to consult. She could make the rules. She would control her own army using every ounce of knowledge she now possessed. Vida had every intention of wreaking havoc and having a good time while doing it.

14: Power

The old woman sniffed the air cautiously. She could smell what she needed, but from which direction the scent came, she was unsure. Her body felt frail as she hobbled toward the end of the dark alley. She had been in the darkness too long. She had been without the nourishment she had needed to be strong. That would change soon enough, though. Once she had the proper amount of energy to begin her search, yes indeed, everything would change.

She had used what little power she had to burst free from Hell through the door that had admitted the strong young man. She had smelled his energy, felt his anger pouring off him as they had hovered before his eyes. Her appetite had been whetted by the scent of his fear while the male demon had spoken to him. That was what Pearl needed to be powerful again. She needed the anger and fear of a strong young man to rebuild her power. Anger and fear were best. They were wasted energy and easily siphoned off a soul. It was easiest to pull off men because men never paid attention to what else could be taken. They had no idea how much they truly lost when they wasted such emotions.

Pearl raised a hand to wipe at her eyes. The hand appeared as a claw to her cloudy vision. She smiled with the knowledge that this too would change. Once she had fed on the power of an unsuspecting man, Pearl Videaux would be beautiful once more. After that, she would have no problem maintaining her power. The men would come to her willingly. They would offer themselves to her. They would be her slaves…and she could take whatever she wanted from them whenever she wanted.

That was how it had been in her living days. Pearl had learned early where the power of a woman truly came from. While some of that power ran naturally through the blood, she had also learned that the majority of that power actually came from the strength of her mind. Build the knowledge, hold the keys. That was how power was truly held.

She had grown into her womanhood during the days when superstitions still held a firm grip on a person’s soul. Despite their bible pounding and prayers cried out loud, the church folk still fell asleep at night with the fear the devil would steal their souls. Pearl would watch their faces when they came to the place where the devil was said to roam. She could see the fear in their eyes as they sought the remedies and solutions to the issues their god would ignore. She learned quickly which buttons to push to better her situation while under the guise of helping those who came seeking aid. If a man beat his wife, she would sell a spell to bind him. If the spell didn’t work, she would sell the poison to weaken him – or worse. If a woman ignored her husband’s needs, she provided the outlet the man needed to cope with the lack of his wife’s attention.

For all that she provided, there was always a price to be paid. Pearl had played it well and, as a result, she had lived well for her efforts. It would be that way again. Of that, Pearl was sure.

15: Meanings

Together, they left the ramshackle address where Phineus ‘Fin’ Holdaway had lived and died. As they walked, Brigit was aware that Cahira was still on alert – as if a dark spirit might attack them at any given moment. The Immortal kept in step, Brigit noticed. The length of Cahira’s stride matching her own. She could easily understand Lancelot’s initial confusion when he had seen her enter the temple. It would only be upon close inspection that someone could tell the two women apart.

“So, you’re an Immortal?” Brigit asked, hoping a bit of conversation would ease her companion’s overwhelming wall of energy.

“I am,” Cahira answered shortly.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means I will live forever,” Cahira sighed as if she were giving out the most obvious of answers. “What does being a Reaper mean?” she asked after a few seconds.

“It means I cross souls to their judgments,” Brigit explained. “It’s easy work most days.”

“Most days?” Cahira sounded confused by the note of amusement she heard in the comment.

“Today is an anomaly,” Brigit shrugged. “We usually have things a little more under control.”

“I see. And what is the reward for the work you do?”

Brigit smiled at the question. The conversation was doing what she had hoped it would. She could feel Cahira beginning to relax.

“For a Reaper, the reward is similar to yours, I suppose. Although we are ghosts, we don’t have to face our fates until we choose to – if we choose to. For me, personally, it let’s me keep a promise.”

“How long have you been dead?” The question was blunt. Brigit sighed as she quickly scanned the time that had passed in her mind.

“Just over two years now. How long have you been alive?”

“Over five hundred years, I suppose,” Cahira shrugged. “The days tend to melt one into the other after a few cycles. I’m lucky to remember what year I’m actually in most of the time.” Although the statement lacked the actual note of humor in it, Brigit still found it amusing.

“How many are there? Immortals, I mean,” she asked.

The idea that these people actually existed intrigued her. When she was alive, she knew she would have scoffed at any such notion of an Immortal actually existing. Back then, people lived and then died. There was nothing after that. The idea of an Immortal would have defied everything she had thought she knew about the laws of the Universe and the cycles of life and death. Since her new existence, Brigit now realized, anything was possible – even the possibility of myths and legends – and that she had not really known anything at all when she had been alive.

“There are hundreds of us all over the world,” Cahira informed her. “Some were granted their status of immortality in that moment when Death should have taken them.” Brigit caught a note of annoyance to her companion’s statement. “Others, like me, are natural born by having been born on some sacred site that endowed a birthright rather than a choice. I was born on Avalon. My mother is the High Priestess – the Lady of the Lake.”

“And your father?” Brigit’s mind was too busy taking in the explanation provided to think about the potential sensitivity of the question she posed. Cahira shrugged nonchalantly, however. To Brigit, the shrug suggested it was either a sore subject not to be discussed or, one without an answer at all. The Reaper let it go and pushed onto the next question to enter her mind.

“What do Immortals do, aside from living forever? How do you survive? How do you live?”

“We do what we have to in order to blend in for a cycle or two. In some places, it’s easy to stay put for awhile before questions start to arise. The bigger cities definitely make it easier to blend in. Small towns – not so much. As for what we do, we work, we observe, we step in where the angels do not. That’s part of our Divine Mission. We are always at the beck and call of the Divine. Sometimes, it feels like our sole purpose is really just to keep humanity from completely destroying itself with its own naïve stupidity.”

“Sounds tiresome,” Brigit noted.

“It can be. Especially when it is the same lesson being taught over and over again.”

“Do you all carry swords?”

Brigit asked as she glanced sideways at the sword Cahira carried across her back. Inanely, she pressed her right arm firmly against her side. She had managed to stop into the firm’s arsenal room and grab the first weapon she saw. The Scottish dirk felt natural against her side under the long black coat. She would have given her selection more thought, but John’s urgent insistence that they rush to meet the Immortals had not allowed for more thought. She had barely had time to put her coat back on and grab her umbrella before John was herding them out the door. Compared to the sight of Cahira’s long sword, the dirk felt like a pocketknife.

“Only the warriors do,” Cahira answered patiently. “The holy ones – priests and priestesses – they do not. They are armed with abilities that require no weapon. They are able to summon the powers of the Divine through their bodies. In a way, that ability makes them all the more dangerous. I am a rarity,” the tattooed woman declared.

“How so?”

“I am both a warrior and a priestess.”

The tone of the answer left Brigit to wonder if it was a gift or a curse to her companion to be a traveler of so many paths. The two fell silent as they continued on to the next block. Each was keenly aware that the other was deep in thought.

“What was the promise?” Cahira suddenly asked.

“Excuse me?”

Brigit had been yanked from her thoughts over all that her companion had revealed. She had been busily trying to categorize it all into the small space that had been designated for ‘magical discoveries’ in her mind. It was a space that had been brought into existence since becoming a Reaper. Today, the walls were being pushed further back by Cahira’s explanations. Now, Brigit stood looking at the other woman in surprise.

“You said that being a Reaper allowed you to keep a promise. I was asking what that promise was,” Cahira answered.

“Oh,” Brigit’s look of confusion faded into a broad smile. It was the first thought of Maggie to cross her mind since that morning. “I made a promise to my lover that I would be with her until the last breath. I never imagined I would be keeping that promise as a ghost.”

“Funny how some things work out,” Cahira mused out loud. “She must be exceptional for you to be so determined.” Brigit felt her smile broaden.

“You’ve heard of Helen of Troy?” Cahira nodded. “Maggie is my Helen,” Brigit revealed.

“I see,” Cahira replied as a smile of understanding came to her own face. She ignored the slight pang of envy that pricked at her heart. Not everyone could abstain from the powers of love as she could. Unfortunately, in Cahira’s case, it was a necessary abstinence. “So, how do we find our quarry?” she asked quickly, hoping to quiet the ruckus that would soon arise in her mind over the idea that even a ghost could revel in the force that she purposely denied herself.

Brigit fished the ratty piece of newspaper John had given them from her coat pocket. Her dark eyes focused on the name of their assignment drawn out in the flourished handwriting of Jean-Pierre Marchande. From the other coat pocket, she retrieved the Reaper’s Field Guide.

Something about the name on the newspaper nagged at Brigit’s mind. Where had she seen it before? She was sure it was the name of a soul she had crossed at some point during the two years she had been a Reaper. She was absolutely positive she had never known anyone by this name before that time. Finally, she shook the thought from her head and opened the Field Guide to the last page. As usual, it was blank – ready to answer any question she might ask.

“I have a bit of magic of my own,” she smiled as she waved the square black book for Cahira to see. As if she were intrigued, the Immortal stepped closer to peer over Brigit’s shoulder at the blank page. “Where is Vida Montenegro?”

In the passing of a second, the words appeared across the blank page. The Reaper heard the Immortal chuckle in amusement.

“Funny how some things work sometimes,” Cahira said again.

16: Looking for Louie, Part 2

Belinda swept the portfolios off the desk and back into the box she had emptied. She had decided to separate every file she came across with the name ‘Louie’ on it into its own separate pile. After she had found every Louie still waiting to be crossed, she decided she would read the contents to try to find the Louie that was actually sitting in her office under the watchful eye of Pierce Nelson.

Sighing, Belinda pulled the ‘Louie’ file directly before her and began the new task. Louie Peterson, aged twelve: Nope, too old, Belinda thought as she snapped the file shut and dropped it back into the box. Louie Herman aged two: Nope, too young… That file joined its predecessor. Louie George aged six…

Belinda couldn’t help but to jump to excited attention as her bright blue eyes continued to read the words written in his file. Mother died when he was five…sent to live with uncle who killed him…Never spoke after his mother’s death…Sings the ancient song…

It had to be him. The fact that it mentioned his singing caused Belinda to be sure it was the child Mama Dee had brought into the office. Just to be a hundred percent sure, though, Belinda set the file for Louie George aside and continued to scan the rest of the ‘Louie’ pile.

The child sighed heavily and glanced at the man busily writing in the big black book. The pale girl had left the office some time after Mama Dee had brought him the cocoa and then left again. At least the pale girl tried to talk to him. She seemed nice and Louie thought it would be nice to talk back to her; but she was the whitest girl he had ever seen and his momma had always told him to be careful about talking too much to a white girl. His momma had warned him that talking to white folk too much would always lead to some sort of trouble – no matter how nice they seemed.

Louie knew his momma wouldn’t worry. He hadn’t talked to anyone since the day Mrs. Wilmont came to take him away from the small apartment his mother had left him in. When he had asked when his momma would come back to get him, Mrs. Wilmont (a mean old lady, Louie had always thought) had told him to hush his mouth because his momma was never coming back. He had understood when the woman had told Uncle Fin that his momma was dead. Louie knew what dead meant.

The child glanced at the white man again. He wasn’t watching. He was so busy with his work that Louie was sure he’d never miss him. Quietly, the boy slid off the chair he had been sitting in since Mama Dee had brought him to this place. He wanted to be with the little old lady that had saved him from Uncle Fin. Some thing about her reminded him of his own momma. Maybe he would talk to her and she would listen without telling him to hush up. Mama Dee was kind. She would never make him be quiet.

Like a mouse, Louie crept out of the small room and looked up and down the hall before determining what he had to do. He had seen Mama Dee follow the others out the door to the left. That was the way he had to go. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the white man hadn’t seen him, Louie decided he would do it. He would go find Mama Dee. As the chubby child approached the main door, he felt confidant that everything was going to be different for him now. Mama Dee would make sure of that for him. Louie just knew it.

Belinda tossed the last of the Louie files into the waiting box and sighed. Louie George had to be the child sitting in her office. None of the other files had matched the child so closely. Relieved, she pushed herself back from Mama Dee’s desk and picked up the file. She would present it to Brigit as soon as she was back. In the meantime, she would resume the duty of watching the little boy and trying to ignore the ogling from Pierce Nelson.

Belinda entered the hall and stopped abruptly. Something felt odd – as if the air was settling after a door had opened and closed. Yet, she had not heard a door open or close. She was sure Pierce wouldn’t just leave without making some sort of announcement so that she could take over Louie-duty again. Clutching the portfolio in her hand, Belinda pushed aside the odd feeling and continued the distance to her office. As she rounded the corner, she felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight that met her bright blue eyes.

“Pierce, where’s Louie?” she demanded.

The accountant looked up at the sound of her voice, oblivious to the question. His hazel eyes blinked at her in surprise. It wasn’t often that she initiated a conversation with him.

“Er, what?” His confusion was overwhelming in his question back to her.

“Louie, the little boy you were supposed to be watching?” Belinda reminded.

“Yes? What about him?” Pierce asked as he tried to force his brain around the idea that Belinda was presenting to him in vague pieces.

“Where is he?”

Pierce Nelson turned his eyes to the corner where the boy had been silently sitting. All that met his sight was an empty chair. Pierce swallowed hard and raised his free hand to loosen his tie.

“Oh, crap…”

17: Catching Up

“How long have you been the Grim Reaper?”

John looked up at his companion. The question had reached through to him as he moved amid the brambles of his memory. The name on the piece of newsprint written in Jean-Pierre’s beautiful penmanship had set loose a hound through the millions of names that he had reaped over the last fifty-plus years. There was something familiar about it, but the details were eluding him. The audible reminder that he was not alone pulled John from the search through his memory. The hound, however, continued its hunt without him.

“Eh? Oh,” John stuffed the newspaper into the breast pocket of his black suit coat and furrowed his brow as he did the math. “Almost three years, I’d have to guess.”

“What happened to Araxius? Did you cross him?” Lance continued as they walked along the sidewalk. John found the Immortal’s question not so unusual. It had been some time since their last encounter after all. He supposed they did have quite a bit of catching up to do.

“Actually, yes,” John replied, “but it was of his choosing.”

“How so?”

Lance sounded surprised. He had known Araxius Herodotus since the day he had accepted the mantle of immortality. Through the centuries, their occasional encounters had always left an impression on Lancelot. To him, it seemed, Araxius would never have been a soul to throw in the towel on any endeavor he had undertaken. The man had been a Roman, after all. Determined to the end…

“One day, he summoned me to the café, told me the whole firm – except for the Bailey – had decided to retire and that I was now in charge. Then, he handed me his portfolio, wished me good luck and walked through the door.”

“Just like that? Did he give you no reason? And the whole firm went with him?”

“The whole firm,” John confirmed. “The old man simply said ‘I’ve had enough’. I’ll tell you, that was probably the most aggravating and frightening day of my existence since dying. What was I supposed to do? By experience standards, I was but a wee babe compared to some of the other agents of the firm. Araxius was one of the founders, so, you know he had been around for eons. There were others that had centuries more experience than I did.”

“Bollocks,” Lance breathed out in disbelief. Finally, he shook his head and shrugged. “Well, you seem to have figured it out, eh?”

“Not on my own, I can assure you of that,” John replied.

“Your assistant?”

“She’s a god-send,” John nodded. “She’s a good egg, truly. Of course, she has her moments when her emotions still cloud her judgment; but all-in-all, I couldn’t run the firm without her.”

“She’s a woman,” Lance pointed out. “Dead or alive, a woman’s emotions will always affect their judgment,” he laughed.

“I see you still hang onto your chauvinistic sensibilities,” John accused lightheartedly. Lance laughed and shook his head.

“Some things take time to erode, my friend. Even the Grand Canyon took millions of years to become what it is today.”

John smiled faintly and nodded in concession to Lance’s statement.

“How is it you were so readily available today? Surely you have better things to do than to act as a hound of Hell,” John inquired. Lance shrugged again.

“I had the day off. I was visiting the museum when I came across Gabriel. He was tracking one of the escapees. He seemed rather perturbed.”

“I imagine he was,” John sighed. “I can’t imagine any aspect of the Divine to be particularly pleased with Reapers, Incorporated at this moment. Gabriel was possibly even more irritated because it’s the second time in a month that he’s been interrupted by something to do with a Reaper.”

“What do you mean?”

John launched into the recount of Seamus Flannery’s abduction of Brigit’s love, Maggie Devon and the subsequent events that had led to the Irishman’s exile into Limbo by Brigit’s angry hand. Lancelot listened quietly as his companion went on to explain that Gabriel had been pulled from his assignments to over see the demise of the rogue Reaper in case Brigit had failed. Sola DuLach had relayed this much to him during their own journey back to the mountain where Brigit and Maggie were trapped. Brigit had succeeded in her quest, but not without a price. While Gabriel had been gracious enough to seal the wound inflicted by Seamus Flannery during the fight, it was John’s suspicion that Gabriel’s irritation had been building with the Grim Reaper’s negligence in expressing his gratitude.

“Well, Gabriel can be somewhat of a stickler for manners,” Lance pointed out when John finally fell silent.

“I am aware,” John replied. His mind was beginning to return to the scent of the name on the piece of newspaper in his breast pocket. The hound was still running through the undergrowth of his memories. “How well do you know Cahira? I’ve met her in passing on a couple of occasions; however, there’s never been time to chat.”

“I know her well,” Lance smiled. “She’s my god-daughter.”

“Oh, I see,” John said despite the truth that he couldn’t quite see the connection at all. “Who are her parents?”

“Her mother is Intienne, High Priestess of Avalon and her father is the High General,” Lance revealed.

“High General? Do you mean Arthur?”

“I do.”

“Why is she in the present plane? Why isn’t she sheltered in Avalon? Surely they place a higher value on her existence than to have her out doing the same work as the rest of you – no offense intended,” John apologized.

“None taken,” Lance chuckled. “In the beginning, I expressed the same thoughts. It was my belief that the next light bearer should be sheltered as well, but Cahira was coming to that age where she would start asking questions about her lineage. She knows full well Intienne is her mother; but she is ignorant as to who sired her. Arthur wanted it that way – less pressure, I suppose. I mean, can you imagine the stress of knowing that you’re the next light bearer for the human race? Bah! It’s too much. Besides, Cahira jumped at the chance to leave Avalon after her formal education was complete. She can be a restless one sometimes. Our work keeps her busy, out of trouble – you know? You may have noticed she bears the markings of warrior and priestess?”

John nodded in acknowledgment. He had seen the crescent moon on her forehead and the tails of the twin serpents coiled about her wrists. While the moon had seemed of common design, he had guessed the serpents to be quite ornate – the markings of the highest warrior there could be.

“She is every bit the image of her mother on the outside, but in her soul, she is every bit of Arthur.”

“Interesting,” John commented quietly.

“What about these others? Your Miss Buttercup and Mama Dee? Do you really call her ‘Mama’?”

“I do,” John chuckled.

“Why? I dare say I can not imagine your mother being so dark skinned,” Lance teased.

“I call her that because I do believe Mama Dee would send me into Limbo if I ever called her by her given name. It’s one of the two things I know of that will piss her off in a heartbeat.”

“What’s the other?”

“Hurting a child,” John answered solemnly.

“And Miss Buttercup? She seems quite an enigma. I couldn’t get a read on her.”

“She’s a recent transfer to this office. She’s replacing Seamus Flannery for the more dangerous assignments,” John explained.

“You’re kidding! She’s barely bigger than a child herself.”

“Lancelot,” John chided, “you of all people should be aware that surprising strength can come in even the smallest of packages.” The Reaper cast a sideways glance at his companion. While John Blackwick was not very tall himself, Lancelot DuLach was a good three inches even shorter. “And, I have it on very good authority that Katuri-Buttercup could rip your heart out between beats before you would even realize she had touched you.”

“Hmph,” the Immortal grunted in disbelief.

“Not that I’m one to brag,” John added with a wry grin.

“No, of course you aren’t,” Lance added. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course,”

“Why are we walking? I know for a fact that a Reaper can travel anywhere they should choose just by walking through a door. We’ve been walking and chatting instead of hunting. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to remember why I know the name of our assignment. For some reason, I know it and the devil take me if I know why,” John admitted.

“May I suggest that you remember a little faster?” Lance suggested.

“Why?”

“Because, my friend, the devil won’t have time to take you if Gabriel has to be interrupted again.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” John sighed quietly.

18: Mama Dee’s Rue

Mama Dee was clutching the handle of Brigit’s black umbrella tightly. Steadily, she walked using it as a cane, the wooden tip touching the sidewalk with a click each time she took a step with her right. Once upon a time, the little old woman might have said that she was holding onto it for dear life…

Her mind was tired. With everything that had happened since that morning, Mama Dee had thought her head would spin right off her shoulders. It hadn’t, though. The whirlwind debacle of crossing Phineus Holdaway, the subsequent over drive of her fear and, then, the spirit crushing revelation that she had left the assignment undone had merely just worn her mind out. All processes wanted to shut down. She didn’t want to think about anything regarding the beginning of the day anymore.

Brigit had given her the umbrella for protection. Mama Dee was sure her friend had meant it to be more gesture of comfort than an actual armament for the assignment ahead of her now. She couldn’t imagine another encounter where she would have to fight. After today, Mama Dee couldn’t imagine another assignment outside the children’s department – if she were allowed to remain on staff...

At some point, the little old lady was sure she would be the recipient of a lecture from John Blackwick. He had expectations and Mama Dee knew her actions (or lack of, rather) had failed miserably in meeting them. He expected his staff to set good examples. Especially those Reapers he considered to be ‘core’ staff. She hoped he would hear her side of the story before making a decision. She really did love her new job and the existence it provided. Yet, she remembered his words to Brigit when she had been allowed to return to work. He had not been the least bit casual in his delivery of them.

That had been the day Mama Dee had died. The old lady had fought that day too, but it had been a reflex back then. She had been alive only a few seconds before that and the sight of the bald man in the black robes that had been the old Bailey had frightened her...

That reflex had gone into a sort of hibernation during her time spent crossing children. Children, even in spirit, could be controlled with kind words and a warm hug, or a stern tone and the quick pinch of an ear. The children, for the most part, still held a ribbon of respect for their elders. All a child really wanted, Mama Dee knew, was to feel safe and know they were loved. Once they were aware of those things, Mama Dee had no problems from them.

The tip of the umbrella against the sidewalk gave sound to her footsteps as she continued along. Her mind returned to the idea that she had bitten off more than she could chew. When she said as much out loud, Mama Dee was yanked from her thoughts by the sound of Katuri-Buttercup’s gentle voice.

“How so?”

Mama Dee started at the sudden sound coming so close to her left. She had been so deep in her thoughts that she had forgotten she was not alone. The old woman jumped back and clutched at her heart.

“Oh my goodness,” she gushed. “I clean forgot you were right beside me, baby. You startled me!”

“As I can see,” Katuri replied unemotionally. Her brown eyes remained fixed on her companion as the old woman tried to push away the disparaging thoughts running through her mind and collect new ones that were not so self-abusing.

“I was just saying that I bit off more than I could chew this morning. I thought I could make important decisions and handle things like I see Brigit do; but I over-estimated myself. I don’t know how she has the heart to do what she does. She was never like this before she died,” Mama Dee explained, her hands resting on the crook of the umbrella’s wooden handle.

“You knew her during her life?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Didn’t you know?” Mama Dee sounded surprised.

“I’m new to this office,” Katuri reminded.

“Oh, that’s right,” Mama Dee agreed. “Where do you come from?”

“I have transferred from the Japan office.”

“You know Mr. Takamoto?” Katuri simply nodded in reply. “He’s a nice man. How long have you been…?” Mama Dee dropped the end of her question. She didn’t know how to politely ask it. She had never broached the subject with anyone before. The fumbling for the right way to finish the question was evident on her face.

“Dead?” Katuri finished it for the little old woman. Mama Dee nodded gratefully. “A very, very long time, Miss Dee.”

19: Mount Belinda

“I can’t believe you lost Louie,” Belinda snapped as she jammed the skeleton key into the door and turned it sharply. The bolt sounded loudly as it moved into place to secure the main door of 666 ½ Bleecker Street. To be sure it held fast, she shook the door a couple of times before dropping the key into her coffin purse and slinging it over her shoulder.

“I didn’t lose him,” he countered meekly.

Since the moment Belinda had discovered the little boy’s absence, Pierce had endured a scolding laced with obscenities that left him feeling not much taller than his own knees.

“I told you to watch him,” the Goth girl barked without looking at the deflated accountant.

“I was watching him.” The rebuttal was feeble, but it was enough to stop Belinda in her tracks and spin to face the man trailing behind her.

“Watching him entails actually looking at him, Pierce,” she snarled. “Do you realize what Mama Dee will do to us when she finds out we lost her little boy?”

“No.”

“She’s going to kill us,” Belinda continued as she began searching the street scene first in one direction then the other. “How are we going to find him?” she asked out loud.

“Perhaps we should ask the Field Guide?” Pierce suggested.

Belinda shot him a hard glare before pulling the coffin purse up to retrieve her own Reaper’s Field Guide. She stopped short, however, after peering inside. The book had not been returned to her. Brigit had borrowed it the evening before.

The string of obscenities that flowed from Belinda’s mouth caused her companion to take a step back just in case she decided to take a swing at him. He would never have imagined Belinda Yaris to have such a temper. She always seemed so innocent and sweet toward everyone. When she took a moment to catch her breath, Belinda shoved her hand into the depths of the purse and fished out the skeleton key she had used to lock the main door. Her eyes focused on the ground, Belinda extended the key to Pierce. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. If she did, she was sure the edge of her glare would slice him in half.

“Do you have a Field Guide?” she asked, trying to sound calm. She could feel the accountant’s uneasiness as he watched her.

“Yes,”

“Go get it, please,” she instructed tersely.

Pierce Nelson gently took the key she held out to him and hurried to do as he had been told. One last thought rushed through Belinda’s brain as she resumed looking up and down Bleecker Street.

“And lock the door when you come out!” she bellowed at the retreating form of the man hurrying to do her bidding. As her bright blue eyes searched for any anomalies to the energies passing along the sidewalk, her mind kept returning to one thought: Mama Dee is gonna kill me…

20: Looking

Louie left the office with no idea where to go. Once he was on the sidewalk, he stopped and looked all around him as people walked past. At first, he was scared they would see him standing there all alone. He was scared that they would insist he come with them with the intent to find the people who were supposed to be looking after him. Yet, no one noticed him. Some of the people even came close to stepping on him. Eventually, Louie realized that he was just as invisible here on the sidewalk as he had been in Uncle Fin’s yard.

The little boy walked along the sidewalk feeling a sense of wonder running through him. There was a lot to see here, but, he knew he couldn’t see it yet. He wanted to find Mama Dee. Then, maybe, they could go see everything together.

The child stopped at the corner and looked in each direction. He didn’t know which way to go. Taking a deep breath, Louie closed his eyes and slowly let that breath out. He had a sense of how Mama Dee’s energy felt. It was an energy he remembered his own mother having before she went away. It was an energy filled with love.

Louie opened his mind, hoping to find the slightest beacon of that light. In his mind, he called to it, pleading for it to light his way. He waited patiently until it began to emerge through the darkness. It was faint, but he knew what it was. His heart told him for sure that it was Mama Dee’s light.

Slowly, Louie turned in a circle. As he turned, he could see the small beacon in his mind grow stronger. When the light was pulsating vibrantly, he stopped. The child felt a sense of elation beginning to rise up in his gut. The feeling was coming from the same place the song came from. To be sure, though, he took two steps around and stopped. With each step, the beacon faded in its intensity. Quickly, the child took two steps back until the light flashed bright again. That was the direction he needed to go.

Louie opened his eyes again. The traffic was moving casually up and down the street. He knew he should wait for the signal to let him cross, but he was so excited. If he followed the beacon, he would find Mama Dee in no time at all.

Looking to his left, Louie saw a break in the flow of traffic. As fast as his little legs could carry him, the child rushed to the middle of Bleecker Street and stood on the yellow line while looking to his right for the next break in the traffic coming from that direction. When it came, he sprinted to the safety of the far sidewalk and down to the next corner. There, he stopped and closed his eyes again. The beacon still flashed bright. Louie smiled and sprinted across the street. This was going to be easy. Mama Dee would be happy to see him.

Pearl sighed with satisfaction. She had mustered enough energy to light the signal. Soon, she knew, she would have her first re-taste of the power she craved. Men – looking for something they would never be able to properly name – would walk through the door of their own volition. Their inability to name what they had come in search of would ignite their frustration. Their frustration would turn to anger. Their anger would feed the dark priestess and it would only be a matter of time before she was queen in her own court again.

The old woman seated herself on the worn wooden chair that had been abandoned to the emptiness of the room. She had come to this place and deemed it acceptable, a large open space with large windows. It was not her plantation house, but, it would have to do for now.

As she looked around the space, she remembered the lavish home she had lived in with her daughters. The plantation house had been a palace compared to this empty room. That house had been the first gift from the bargain she had made with the devil. The opening of further avenues to her power had been the second. The third and final gift had come on the night of her mortal destruction, when the devil had come in the disguise of a lover – bringing with him the lynching mob that would string her by the neck from the pecan tree just outside the front porch. By then, she had done enough evil in her life to ensure a straight passage to Hell. The taking of souls for her own gratification had been just one of the damning sins. As the young lover had pointed his finger at her, Pearl could see that she had taken her powers for granted – taken the devil for granted. While the majority of men in the area had the mental capacity of sheep, Pearl had been blind to see the chance that the devil could manipulate them just as well – if not better – than she could.

Although the lover had been the devil’s puppet, Pearl wondered as they cinched the knot around her neck, whether he would remember being possessed by the king of demons. As the hangman tossed the loose end of the rope over the branch that would be her gallows, Pearl had met the smiling face of the possessed lover. The mortal face was caught up in the frenzy of the lynching. The demon inside him was caught up in the elation of taking a soul. The twinkle in his eye was one Pearl recognized well. No, she had decided as the rope suddenly began to pull against her windpipe, the boy will not remember; but I will help him with that…

And she had. Every trick that Pearl had ever used to torment a soul had carried in her memory when she crossed the threshold to death. The lover’s disloyalty was a mistake he paid for daily until the Reaper had finally come to usher Pearl on to her final fate.

The wooden chair she occupied now had been the only piece of furniture forgotten in the last occupant’s flight. It was far from a proper throne, but Pearl had decided it would also do for now. With time, her court would be as lavish as it had been when she was alive.

A dry chuckle escaped the hag as she breathed in deep to feed a little more energy to the light she had sent out. There was time for now and she had the patience to endure it. Soon, everything would be just like it used to be.

21: Patrick’s Tale

“Patrick, what has happened to you?”

The question was barely above a whisper as it was uttered. Jacob was unable to tear his eyes from the monstrosity that gazed back at him with an expression of slight amusement. He tried to still his thoughts, tried to calm the fear still running rampant through his mind. The recognition of Patrick Devlin’s face beneath the oozing sores and sharply chiseled smile did little to assist his efforts.

“What happened?” Another grizzly chuckle escaped the demon as the gnarled hand that had been extended in greeting dropped to the back of the empty chair beside him. Slowly, he pulled the chair out and seated himself on it, uncaring that he had received no invitation to do so. “I’ve been wandering, my friend. I’ve been roaming the darkness that was my apparent fate.”

“Where? Where have you been all these years?” Jacob couldn’t help but to ask.

“I’ve been in Hell, Jacob. I’ve been a denizen since the day after I ceased to live. I barely had time to comprehend what exactly had happened to my mortal existence when the Reaper came and crossed me to my eternal judgment.” Patrick shook his head in amusement at the memory. “I am assuming the Reapers have not come for you?”

“No, at least, I have not been visited by anyone since the day I last drew breath. I don’t know what a Reaper is,” Jacob admitted. “Why were you sent to Hell? You were a man of the cloth, one of God’s beloved ones. What earned you the reward of such damnation?”

“God turned his back on me,” Patrick growled.

“Did you not seek forgiveness for whatever you had done?” The thoughts and suspicions that had plagued Jacob’s mind were beginning to line themselves up again. He could not look at them now, though. He would seek his answers from the source of it all that had made his heart heavy for so long.

“Oh yes – every time. Apparently, I was denied,” the demon laughed at his own insight before shrugging. “But, I am free now. It no longer matters. I know the truth of it all.

“Why have you come here? Why have you sought me out?”

“Perhaps you should sit down, Jacob. It has been ages since we’ve shared a conversation at your table,” Patrick suggested as he waved a gnarled claw toward the chair Jacob had arisen from in the dreadful recognition of the demon’s true identity. Slowly, Jacob returned to the seat. His dark eyes never left the grotesque image before him. His fear cautioned him to remain vigilant.

“Now, to answer your immediate question: I have come, dear Jacob, to offer you an opportunity,” the demon purred. “I have seen things you would never have the heart to face. I have come to know the truths that lie in the darkness. If you take the opportunity I present to you, you will also know these things and know the truth of how the world really works.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Patrick,” Jacob admitted. “Have you forsaken your beliefs and your faith? Is that why you were condemned? What did you do?”

“Oh, Jacob, you were always so strong in your faith,” Patrick chided. “You have no clue to the realities that swarmed all around you every minute of the day. You were oblivious to everything, weren’t you? If you had once taken your eyes from the imaginary light that they told us was God, you would have seen the ruse they were playing on us. When we were boys in the orphanage, I spent so much time making sure you could revel in the lies they told us. I tried to be like you, but my innocence was short lived. I envied that of you – your innocence; but once I lost mine, I swore you would not. I loved you that much.”

Jacob noted the touch of sadness that filled the visitor’s voice as he spoke. The detection of it only spurned more questions to his mind as his dark eyes remained focused on the visitor’s face. Where was Patrick going with this?

“I was unaware you did so much for me,” he said quietly.

“That was how I wished it,” the demon replied quickly, waving away Jacob’s admission casually. “You were the example I wished to follow, although, I never understood why you never took up the burden of being the example for everyone to follow. You should have gone into the ministry, my friend. Your adoration and devotion was admirable.”

“It was not my calling,” Jacob replied. “My faith was my own. I had no wish to force my beliefs on anyone else. My love for God was a private matter.”

“Ah, you were being selfish. Did you ever stop to think that your love may not have been reciprocated?”

“Never,”

“But it could have been if you had turned your eyes from the heavens for merely an instant to look around you. You could have known a love even more powerful than the love you thought you were receiving from your god. That’s the other side of the coin I hold out to you. Turn your eyes away for a moment and recognize the love I offer. It will open your eyes,” the demon promised.

Jacob let the words swirl around him slowly. Patrick was being so cryptic. His explanations to Jacob’s questions were vague. Jacob sifted the words carefully, hoping to decipher the point of the demon’s presence at his table.

“Join me,” Patrick said, “and I will show you a love and a power that you would never have imagined.”

“Join you in what?” Jacob asked slowly.

“Eclipsing the light…”

22: Viva La Vida

The neighborhood, it turned out, was not what she imagined. When Vida had finally reached the edges of it, she acknowledged the disappointment at seeing the hoity-toity milling about the sidewalks. They pushed past her without apology – just like they used to when she was alive. The difference now was that they couldn’t see her. They didn’t know that she was capable of tormenting them until they went insane with fear.

Yet, there was a darkness that still lingered in the neighborhood. Down the alleys, around certain buildings – they hovered. Vida could feel their eyes following her and it made her smile. It reminded her of the days when the gang would ride into a new town. The people would stare in wide-eyed wonder that would eventually turn to fear once they recognized the strangers for what they were. Vida had enjoyed that feeling then even though she had not been the sole focus. Surrounded by five demons in human flesh, Vida had always felt somewhat less significant. Now, she was alone and the intense attention she could feel from the shadows exhilarated her.

Despite what she could see of Hell’s Kitchen, Vida followed the intensity of the darkness until she was sure she was in the heart of it. The alley was narrow, lined with overflowing dumpsters and doorways that seemed all the darker for the shadows that lurked there. Vida Montenegro stood at the head of the alley, surveying the lay of the land. Her head held high and her shoulders square, the Chupacabra woman stepped from the sidewalk to the blacktop. She held no fear. Fear had fled her permanently as she had wandered the depths of Hell. Fear had been such a slight emotion for her anyway. If she had ever listened to it, she would never have had any fun.

“Come on, boys,” she called teasingly. “Come out and show yourselves to Mama.”

At first, nothing stirred in the alley. Vida remained where she stood, her black eyes watching every inch of the narrow alley for the confirmation of her initial instinct. Then, a shadow actually emerged. Vida smiled hungrily as she watched it begin a wary approach, slowly becoming a physical apparition. He was big; swarthy skinned and, from what Vida could tell by his expression, cocky. She stood her ground as his wary approach turned into a strut that fully betrayed his confidence.

“Hello, Papa,” she greeted. The swarthy ghost flashed a charming smile.

“You lost, doll?” he asked. “I ain’t seen you in this hood before.”

“I’m not lost, honey,” Vida purred. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“For me?” the big ghost affected surprise. “Now, what would you want with me?”

Vida smiled. His accent was heavy, just like in the movies. As he stood in front of her, Vida surveyed him. He was better looking than the men that had been in the Chupacabras, but she could see that this one used his good looks to get what he wanted rather than using his brains.

“What ever you can provide me,” Vida replied, flashing her own charming smile. Slowly, she brought her hand to her chest and unbuttoned the top of the sleeveless blouse she had been wearing on the day she had died. The action revealed the top of the canyon that was her cleavage and the gentle rise to the mound of her breast. The action caught the big guy’s attention. His smile broadened.

“At the moment, I’ve got one thing I can definitely provide you. What’s your name, doll?” he asked as he took another step closer.

“Vida,” she replied as his big hand reached out and touched the bare skin of her arm. His touch was cold – not like the scorching touch of the demons in Hell.

“Vida? That means ‘life’,” he joked. “I’m Tony.”

“Of course you are,” Vida responded. “You got some friends, Tony? We could make this a real party you know,” she implied as she dropped her hand to his crotch and cupped him there.

“I’ve got the whole gang here,” Tony growled. “You a hooker?”

“Not at all,” Vida smiled as she brought her face close to his. Quickly, she darted the tip of her tongue across his lips. “I just have a big appetite.”

Tony laughed lightly as he raised his hand and waved it toward the alley. Vida’s dark eyes followed the motion. Almost instantly, she saw the darkness lining the walls peel itself from the nooks and crannies and begin a slow approach toward them.

“Trust me, Princess,” Tony growled in her ear as she watched the shadows begin to take physical forms. There were maybe a dozen of them. To her, it was a good start. Within a few days, Vida knew she could triple that number – then the fun would really begin. “Once you’ve had me, you’ll be satisfied,” Tony promised as he traced a meaty fingertip down the exposed skin from the hollow of her neck to the rise of her breasts.

Vida looked at each of the faces surrounding them now. They had materialized from the shadows the same way Tony had. She could see the lights of lust dancing in their eyes. Compared to everything she had endured in Hell, this was going to be a piece of cake. Soon, she would have an army of shadows. Soon, she would be a queen.

“We’ll see about that, honey,” she growled back. Her hold on Tony’s crotch tightened, causing him to flinch uncomfortably. “And don’t call me ‘Princess’.”

23: Frustration

Pierce had returned quickly from inside and offered Belinda his Field Guide before turning to relock the front door. She opened the square black book to the blank last page and asked the obvious question regarding Louie’s destination. The only reply she received was: Turn South. In frustration, Belinda shoved the book back into Pierce’s hands.

“What’s the matter?” Pierce asked.

“I don’t know which way is south,” she snapped.

“Oh, um,” Pierce looked up one direction of Bleecker Street before turning and looking down the opposite way. Finally, he looked up to the blue sky that shone in narrow lanes above the tall buildings. “The sun is to my right,” he murmured. “That means south is this way,” he announced confidently as he pointed in that direction.

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

Pierce closed the book but did not pocket it. They would need to keep it handy to find Louie. Together, they crossed the street – oblivious to the rush of traffic that had been unleashed by the turning from red to green of the traffic signal the next block up.

“He couldn’t have gone far, Belinda,” Pierce commented, trying to assure her that they would be able to find the boy quickly. The comment fell on deaf ears. Belinda was too preoccupied with her thoughts.

It had not been an easy day from the beginning, she thought as she trudged along the sidewalk. Brigit’s return to the office had been tense, especially after the Assistant Reaper had found it amusing that Belinda had incorrectly remembered Katuri-Buttercup’s name. Then, Mama Dee’s arrival with Louie in tow had set Belinda close to the edge of panic. She had known then that something was wrong. Yet, the details of the situation had been told to Brigit in the privacy of the main office – well beyond the scope of Belinda’s hearing. It was during that time that Belinda had been delegated the status of ‘babysitter’ and her frustration, despite hiding it behind her curiosity of the child, had begun to grow. The responsibility of watching over Louie had felt more like a demotion, as if her duties as the firm’s senior records keeper were not important at all.

She had wondered briefly if it had been Brigit’s intention to bring her down a notch because she had not given the dark woman the assurance that their friendship was still good. Brigit had put her though a lot since Seamus had kidnapped Maggie. The depths of the guilt Belinda had felt in her unwitting part of the Irishman’s schemes had been so overwhelming to her. Brigit’s anger had only added to that weight until it felt like Belinda would suffocate.

Then, there had been the journey up the mountain to save Maggie. A storm had raged through the night, forcing them to seek shelter together. Belinda had told her story and Brigit had calmed down. By morning, the Assistant Reaper had experienced a change of heart and dismissed Belinda from the scene. Even though Mama Dee had explained the reason behind Brigit’s change of heart, Belinda couldn’t help but to entertain the idea that perhaps it had really been because Brigit no longer trusted her. That idea had become another stone on the pile of guilt already crushing her heart.

Through the days of watching over Brigit as she lay recovering from the sickness that had stemmed from the wound Seamus had inflicted, Belinda had hoped to ease the burden of her guilt with thoughts of the promise Maggie Devon had solicited from her. Belinda remembered the hours that John Blackwick had allowed her to keep vigil. In the dim light of the room, it had been hard to ignore her imaginings of what had really happened on the frozen plateau. When Brigit had finally awoke and told the tale of how she had done away with Seamus Flannery, Belinda felt some of guilt crumble away. Her heart had been broken three times in one week’s span and two of those three times had been by Brigit Malone.

Belinda was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice when Pierce stopped walking. Her eyes were focused on the sidewalk as she waded through the events and emotions of the past few weeks. She was half-way up the block when she heard the small voice calling her name. Surprised, Belinda looked up and realized Pierce Nelson was no longer at her side. Quickly, she turned and looked to the corner behind her. He was standing there with the Field Guide open in his hands. His hazel eyes, though, were trained on her in confusion.

“What?” Belinda called. The question came out slightly more confrontational than inquisitive.

“We need to go this way,” the accountant called back as he hooked his thumb in the direction to his left. “The book says to go east.”

Sighing hard, Belinda trudged back to Pierce’s side. She knew she needed to focus on the task at hand. She had been put in charge of watching over Louie while the other Reapers were out handling whatever crisis John Blackwick had brought to them. She had failed that much responsibility but she was damn sure that she wasn’t going to let someone else clean it up for her this time. She would find Louie and return him to the office. She would watch every move he made until Brigit and Mama Dee returned. At that point, Belinda would gladly hand the boy over to them to be crossed and close the door to her office.

“This is all so fucking ridiculous,” she muttered as they walked.

Pierce cast a nervous glance at his companion. The string of obscenities she had unleashed earlier still had him on guard of his actions. In the months since his arrival to the main office, he had observed Belinda Yaris’ every action. He had seen past the physical appearance she presented and developed a fondness for the sweet and caring young woman he shared an office with. When she was out of sight, he entertained imaginings where she had lived a few years longer than she had. In his mind, Pierce had imagined her shedding the Goth girl disguise and embracing the rest of the world as one of her own. He saw her in the business attire of an accountant or a lawyer. He saw her as someone he could have fallen in love with if they had ever met in life.

He had watched her every move. He could sense her sadness over the loss of Seamus Flannery. Pierce had secretly rejoiced at the news that the Irishman was gone. Just as he could see through Belinda’s façade, he had also seen through Seamus. The flame-haired man had held no good intentions for anyone but himself. Pierce had found it such a relief to his sense of protectiveness that Seamus was no longer around to break Belinda’s heart.

“Just fucking ridiculous,” Pierce heard Belinda mutter again.

This time, he risked more than a sideways glance at her. The intensity of her bright blue eyes bothered him. She was reaching the boiling point of her frustrations. He had no idea where to start in an effort to calm her. He had lent to the situation they were in now. She had asked him to do one thing and he had let her down miserably.

“We’ll find the child,” Pierce offered meekly before stopping and consulting the Field Guide again. This time, Belinda stopped with him. When the book indicated their new direction, Pierce pointed the way. Quickly, Belinda began to walk away from him. “We’ll find him, I promise,” he whispered before running to catch up.

24: Trouble Brewing

Mama Dee clutched the handle of the black umbrella inanely as her dark eyes took in their surroundings. Katuri-Buttercup stood silently beside her. The small woman had been mostly silent through the better part of their journey to this point. Mama Dee had wondered more than once if she found comfort in her companion’s silence or if it had helped to keep her on edge. Katuri’s silence had left her space to think, yet at the same time, it had failed to distract her from thinking. Mama Dee was unsure which side of the coin made her happier.

They were standing in a dark neighborhood surrounded by warehouses and grey shrouded tenements. People milled around the sidewalks, some working, some just standing around eyeing the business going on around them. The spirits that lingered were nearly invisible with the amount of energy the living expounded.

Mama Dee slowly let her eyes scan the building fronts, avoiding the faces of the mortals that were intent on just making it through another day of their lives. She didn’t want to think about the idea that they had no clue how important every second of their being active truly was.

“Where should we go?” Mama Dee asked, more to herself than to her companion.

“Look,”

Mama Dee turned to look at Katuri. She followed the smaller woman’s extended arm to the tip of her finger where she pointed at a seemingly abandoned store front. The sight that finally caught Mama Dee’s attention made her gasp out loud.

The child could barely be seen as he weaved between the mortals still going about their business. The look on his chubby little face was determined as he walked along. Every few feet, he would stop and close his eyes for a second before resuming his path. As the realization of recognition sank in, Mama Dee felt a sense of fear rushing back.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Mama Dee managed to whisper as her mind began to race again. “What is that child doing?”

As if in answer, Louie suddenly stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes again. There was a fleeting look of confusion on his round face as he quickly scanned the crowd all around him. What was he looking for? Mama Dee also began to search the faces of the crowd milling around the boy. Nothing was making any sense.

“He’s gone inside the building,” Katuri stated.

While Mama Dee had been looking at the crowd, Katuri had kept her sight trained on the child. It was obvious to her that he was following something. She had the suspicion it was leading him to the same place they were going, yet, she was unable to fathom why he would be led there. All of her senses had risen to high alert as soon as they had entered the neighborhood. She had been somewhat annoyed that her companion had chosen to track their quarry in such a slow manner as walking. They could have been finished with the assignment by now if they had simply consulted their Field Guides. They could have used the appropriate portals to arrive right where they needed to be. Katuri knew that she was being impatient, but something had told her to keep the obvious to herself and indulge the older woman in the route to their assignment.

“I have to get him,” Mama Dee announced firmly. “There’s no telling how much trouble he can get into,”

“He’s a little boy,” Katuri pointed out. “Aren’t they notorious for that?” Mama Dee looked at her companion and, for the first time since that morning, cracked a slight smile.

“That they are,” she confirmed before starting off in the direction of the building they had seen the boy enter.

“Great,” Katuri sighed before following in the old woman’s wake.

25: Hell’s Kitchen

Brigit frowned and scratched her head in confusion as her eyes bored into the blank last page of the Reaper’s Field Guide. They had come to the boundary of Hell’s Kitchen quickly via the nearest portal after closing the door Mama Dee had left open. Brigit had been through this neighborhood many times as a mortal. She knew the streets and avenues well enough to know that the object of their hunt could hide in only so many places.

“This is a dark neighborhood,” Cahira commented quietly.

Brigit looked up from the Field Guide to see her companion’s electric blue eyes scanning the scenery slowly. Although Cahira wore no visible expression on her face, Brigit could see the level of wariness beginning to rise behind the other woman’s eyes again.

“It used to be,” Brigit replied. “They started turning it around awhile back. Now it’s all about families and artists,” she explained; but Cahira shook her head.

“The shadows still remain,” she warned. “They’ve been here longer than the families and artists. They won’t go away just because Susie Homemaker has three kids and a husband that works on Wall Street. Are we close to the assignment?”

“Well, we were,” Brigit sighed as she returned her eyes to the blank page one last time.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The page has gone blank. I’ve never seen that happen before.”

“It’s the shadows,” Cahira decided. “They are protecting her.”

Brigit closed the Field Guide and returned it to its home in her coat pocket. She turned and faced the neighborhood that Cahira was studying seriously. Her mind raced with what to do next. As she narrowed her dark eyes in thought, Brigit began to notice them.

They were watching her and Cahira. Some casually leaned against the walls of buildings. Others stood openly, prepared for any confrontation the two women might present. Some of the more derelict ghosts smiled hungrily, perhaps thinking the Reaper and the Immortal would be easy targets for their dark games.

“Have you ever done this before?” Brigit suddenly asked.

“Have I ever done what before?” Cahira’s questioning reply came out slowly. Brigit could feel the intensity of the energy running through the other woman. Cahira was already miles ahead of her in preparation for a fight.

“Fought with a spirit,” Brigit answered.

“Not really, but I’m guessing that you have. I’ll follow your lead.”

Brigit merely nodded before taking the first step. She unbuttoned the long black coat casually before dropping her hands back to her sides. She wanted to give them no reason to start a fight. Yet, if the dark souls decided to ignore such a simple gesture of peace, she wanted quick access to the dirk hidden inside her coat. She could feel Cahira a step behind her, the intense energy emanating off the other woman somewhat reassured Brigit that she was not alone in this.

The eyes of the dark souls watched them steadily as they walked.

“They’re surrounding us,” Cahira muttered under her breath.

“I’m aware,” Brigit answered just as quietly.

“When do we fight?”

“Be patient,” Brigit instructed calmly.

A burly man stepped into her path and she stopped. The slight brush against her back indicated that Cahira had turned to face the wall behind them. Brigit stood still as she eyed the big man before her. His hair was curly and grey, his cheeks ruddy with the permanent flush of alcohol. Although he was smiling benignly, Brigit could see the malevolence behind his green eyes.

“Now, where might ye be headin’, lass?” the big man asked. His accent and manner of approach instantly reminded her of Seamus Flannery. That reminder told her to be vigilant.

“I’m looking for someone,” Brigit replied calmly.

“Well, ye’ve succeeded in that much,” the big man laughed. “I’m someone, am I not?” Brigit gave no answer as she continued to watch him. Her expression was one of calm indulgence as her dark eyes remained on his ruddy face. “Now that ye’ve found me, what can I do for ye?”

“You can take me to Vida Montenegro,” the Reaper responded.

“Who? I’ve naught heard that name,” he shook his head in mocking seriousness. “Are ye sure ye’ve the right name?”

“I am,” Brigit answered.

“Well,” the big man raised a meaty hand to scratch at the grey curls at his temple, “since yer sure, how about …” he extended the meaty hand to clasp Brigit’s shoulder. The remainder of his question was quickly interrupted.

In the blink of an eye, Brigit caught the hand reaching toward her and wrenched it forward while twisting her body and ducking. Cahira, feeling the sudden change in Brigit’s energy, quickly jumped out of the way. The force of the Reaper’s movement sent the burly man flying in a quick head-first tumble to the blacktop. He landed on his back with a grunt and a look of surprise as Brigit turned and placed her foot across his neck. Fear filled his green eyes as she withdrew the dirk from under her coat and leaned an elbow on her knee. A slight smile played at the Reaper’s lips as she applied a little weight to the knee and looked at the big man she had pinned beneath her boot. She held the dirk casually with the blade resting against her forearm. The eerie silence surrounding her told her she had everyone’s attention – including Cahira’s.

“What do you say to just telling me what I want to know?” Brigit began. “Do you know Vida Montenegro? Blink once for ‘yes’, twice for ‘no’,” she instructed. The big man quickly blinked twice. Brigit felt the spark of her irritation starting an effort to ignite. Without looking up from her snared prey, Brigit asked: “Does anyone know Vida Montenegro? Answer me now or you’ll all pay the consequences,” she threatened.

“No one knows, Brigit,” Cahira muttered as her blue eyes looked up to see every head shaking in denial to the information Brigit was requesting.

Brigit’s mind was racing with the search for what to do now. If she let the big man go, she knew she’d have to fight her way out of the mob. She’d have to make good on the threat she had just issued. Her moral instincts told her it would land her in hot water if she did. Her survival instincts told her she would probably have no choice. She was sure she could handle a few of them on her own and that Cahira was probably more than capable of handling twice as much, but the idea of a fight this early in the hunt wasn’t exactly what she had planned.

The sensation of her coat tail being tugged pulled Brigit from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder to see a small child standing to her right. The child was staring up at her with wide eyes the same color of green as the burley man’s. The dirt that was smudged over the child’s face disguised the fair skin and rosiness to the cheeks that probably would have ended up the same flushed color as that of the big man pinned firmly under Brigit’s boot.

“What is it, kid?” Brigit asked sternly. The child tugged at Brigit’s coat sleeve – an indication to follow her.

“Katie Rose, no,”

The instruction came out as a strangled gasp from the man lying on the pavement. Brigit glanced back at him, a dark eyebrow arched in amusement. His ruddy face was paling in concern for the small girl in the raggedy dress.

“Do you know who I’m looking for, Katie Rose?” Brigit asked, softening her tone to address the child. The little girl nodded confidently. “Will you show us?” Another nod. “Good girl,” Brigit praised. She returned her attention to the big man under her boot. “Is she your daughter?”

“Yes,” it was a strangled reply, but Brigit caught the lack of menace in it now. “Don’t take her, please,” he pleaded.

“She’ll be returned to you unharmed,” the Reaper promised. “You will lay here until we’re out of sight, do you understand?”

The prone man nodded slowly. Brigit took her boot from his throat and watched for half a second to be sure he would keep his word. When he remained still, she held out her hand to the little girl. She felt the tiny cold fingers pull her in the direction away from the crowd. Brigit followed, glancing back only once to make sure Cahira escaped as easily.

As they hastened to the end of the block and around the corner, Brigit felt Cahira fall into step beside her. Katie Rose kept a firm grip on the Reaper’s hand as they walked.

“That was impressive,” Cahira commented. “Why do you need me?”

“Two are better than one, my friend. Besides, I have the feeling we’ve just left the proverbial frying pan,” Brigit mused out loud as she slipped the dirk back into its resting place under her coat.

“To jump in to the fire? Interesting…”

26: Hide and Seek

“How do you think the others are doing?” Lancelot asked as he stood beside John Blackwick. The Grim Reaper merely shrugged.

“I hope they are more successful than we are.”

After spending more time trying to remember their assignment’s place in his memory, John had eventually given up and consulted the last page of the Reaper’s Field Guide. After reading the address, the Grim Reaper and the Immortal had entered the nearest portal and emerged in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bensonhurst. Upon stepping out onto the sidewalk, confusion had washed over both men. They had been brought to the correct location, but nothing was there.

John quickly consulted the address provided in the Field Guide again. Yes, they were definitely where they were supposed to be, but all that their eyes could see was an empty lot. Green grass peeked out around the mounds of rubble that had built up out of the ruins of the building that had once stood there.

“I’m confused,” John admitted. Defeat had already begun to creep into his voice. “The book is never wrong.”

“There has been some sorcery here,” Lance said quietly.

“How can you tell? I see no tell-tale signs,” John countered as he looked at the litter strewn lot. Magic of any kind, John had learned, often left behind energy lines, colored to indicate its presence.

“I can feel it,” Lance admitted. “Whomever has done this is good. He’s managed to conceal himself and the building. It makes me curious about the magic.”

“What can we do?”

In reply to the question, Lance raised his right hand toward the empty lot and muttered some words in his own ancient language. John watched in silence as the cloak began to fade from the building. When it had fully been revealed, Lance dropped his hand and smiled.

“We ask it nicely to reveal the way,” he remarked before gesturing toward the door. John flashed his companion a quick smile of gratitude before stepping from the sidewalk and crossing the street.

27: Granmere

Mama Dee held her breath as she crept up the stairs. One hand was pressed firmly against the wall as she held the umbrella high in the other. Katuri had offered to lead the way up, but Mama Dee’s concern for Louie had refused that offer. The little old woman was suddenly wishing that she had not been so quick with that refusal. She was sure she could feel her heart hammering in her bosom with the fear of what she would find at the top of the stairs. Something in the back of her mind told her that she would not find the child alone…

Louie stood stock still as he stared at the old woman across the room. His confusion mixed easily with his fear as she swayed back and forth like a snake ready to strike. He had been looking for Mama Dee. He had found this scary old woman instead. His tiny heart thundered in terror. What had gone wrong? He had honed in on Mama Dee’s energy, he had been sure. He had followed the beacon to this place; but this was definitely not Mama Dee.

The woman was about the same height as Mama Dee, yet, she was a skeleton covered in dull skin. Her face was ashy white and the thick braids of hair that crowned her head hang like dead snakes around that face. The fingers of her hands were long and clawed, making Louie very afraid to move even a muscle lest she stab him with one.

He had arrived just as she had removed the ragged cloth from her head that was her turban. The sight of the thick braids falling loose had caused Louie to know for sure that he had come across the wrong person. His audible gasp at the sight had caught the hag’s attention and he froze.

“What is dis?” the old woman hissed as she turned to face her visitor. “You got a name, boy?”

Louie gave no answer as she began to shuffle toward him. There was a gleam to her eye that made the boy that much more uncomfortable.

“What de matta? Cat got you tongue?” the hag cackled. “You sure is a fat little boy, ain’t ya? Dat’s good, dat’s good. Granmere Pearl, she likes all sizes,” she assured the child as she continued her slow and labored approach. “Why don’t you come and sit on Granmere’s lap. You can tell her a story.”

Louie gasped again as he watched the hag stop and point one of her sharp claws at the chair across the room. His eyes widened at the sight of it jump away from the wall and begin an eerie slide toward the middle of the room. The thundering of his heart raised a decibel as he watched it slide until it was directly behind the old woman and stop. Slowly, she sank onto its seat, delight dancing through her dark eyes as she watched the boy. Could she hear his tiny heart hammering as well?

“Come here, boy. Come to Granmere Pearl,” she cooed.

Quickly, Louie shook his head in refusal. Fear was evident on his chubby little face. It made the skeleton woman cackle in amusement.

“I ain’t goin’ to hurt you,” the old lady assured him.

Louie was sure it was a lie. Everything inside him told him to turn around and run. This lady was bad. That lady would hurt him. Yet, his feet felt as if they were glued to the floor. They refused to move. They were afraid, too.

Just as she had with the chair, Granmere Pearl pointed her finger at Louie and beckoned. Just as he had seen the chair do, Louie felt himself begin to glide across the floor toward the old woman. What could he do to stop it? How could he get away? In his mind, he began to pray: Mama Dee!

“There now, this is better, no?” the old lady hissed when Louie was butted up against her boney knees. He couldn’t help but shiver when fingers squeezed the plumpness of his arms. “Granmere, she has been waiting. You is special, chile, you is the first one for Granmere’s delight. Do you know what that means? It mean you will help Granmere be strong again. You will help Granmere be powerful. Dat is special,” the hag explained.

She looked deep into the child’s eyes, hypnotizing him with his own fear. She could feel it running so strongly through him. It would be enough to feed her until the next one came along. It would make her strong enough to hunt on her own. Her boney hands clutched the child’s jaw bones and squeezed until his plump little lips parted. She inhaled gently and smiled. The scent of his fear was sweet. The child was going to be easy to siphon from.

Slowly, Pearl began to inhale deep, taking into her mouth the faint threads of fear that had began to reach out to her like grey tentacles. She inhaled deep as the tentacles spread across her lips and filled her nostrils before commencing a slow creep toward her ears. She remembered this was how it had been before. The children released their energy to her in ribbons that would wrap around her. The men, when she allowed it, released theirs in more forceful ways. The difference in securing that energy was what made Pearl prefer the feeding off of children to that of feeding off grown men. The children never expected her to submit to them. The children never expected her to satiate any desire other than to make them feel safe… Yet, the men were always more available – driven by their selfish desires.

Mama Dee stopped short at the sight of Louie in the old woman’s boney clutches. The sight that truly stopped her heart, though, was the look on the demon woman’s sunken features. It was a mixture of seduction, menacing intent and delight as the grey tentacles slithered over her lips and high cheekbones toward her ears. Mama Dee was sure it was the same look Hansel and Gretel had seen before they had been trapped in the witch’s cage.

Mama Dee felt her heart resume its rhythm as Katuri-Buttercup joined her on the landing. She suddenly felt brave. She suddenly felt angry. For the second time that day, Mama Dee uttered the command:

“Let that baby go.”

Pearl’s attention snapped to the opposite end of the room with the sound of the other woman’s voice. The child was still stiff in her hands. His fear had him permanently frozen for now. That was all right. She had fed enough from him to face the two intruders. The child was fat. He had plenty left for later.

“Who you think you speakin’ to, eh?” Pearl snapped as she rose defiantly from the chair. She pushed the frozen child behind her and raised her chin so that she could look down her nose at the woman that had dared to issue a command to her.

“Bitch, I don’t care who I’m speakin’ to,” Mama Dee spat. “You let my boy go.”

Pearl took a step toward her intruders and stopped short when she saw the smaller woman step in front of the black woman protectively. A loud cackle escaped the demon woman as she met the fierce glare of the tiny yellow-skinned girl.

“You think you scare me, chile? You barely bigger than the boy,” Pearl pointed out. “Get out o’ my way,” she snarled before flicking her hand in Katuri’s direction.

The motion brought forth an invisible gush of wind that picked the small Reaper up off her feet and slammed her against the wall. Mama Dee was startled to see her companion’s small body crash against it and promptly land on the floor. The old lady swallowed hard at the sight of Katuri lying motionless. Her bravery was beginning to shrink now that she was seemingly alone.

A slow movement from the corner of her eye brought her attention back to the hag. Pearl had come closer. The expression on her sunken features seemed to be one of recognition and surprise.

“I know you,” the hag hissed.

“I don’t think so,” Mama Dee countered as she tightened her grip on the crook of the umbrella. What had Brigit told her? Stab through the eye?

“Blood don’t lie, chile,” Pearl said, a slight smile coming to her ashen face. “I know what my blood smell like.”

“So?” Mama Dee spat back. “You can smell blood. Good for you.”

“You carry my blood in your veins, chile. I can smell it from here. Who’s your momma? Was it Millie or Phoebe?”

Mama Dee flinched at the names the hag tossed out. Millie had been her great-grandmother’s name. She had-had a sister named Phoebe. Mama Dee stared hard at the old woman before her as the memories of Millie’s and Phoebe’s ancient faces rushed to her immediate thoughts. Their wrinkled faces flashed through her mind as Mama Dee felt her fear beginning to seep back in. She could see this woman in the faces that had come with her memory.

“Ah, I see it sinkin’ in on you. You can see Granmere Pearl don’t tell you no lie. You my blood.”

“No,”

The word caused another loud cackle to escape the hag.

“What you goin’ to do now?” Pearl mocked as she did a jig of triumph at the stalemate she had put Mama Dee in. “What you goin’ to do?”

Oh, Lord, help me… Mama Dee quickly prayed.

28: The Demon’s Offer

“What do you mean? How do you plan to eclipse the light? Is it the light of the Divine you refer to?”

The questions flowed quickly from him as he began to make some sense of Patrick’s offer. The proud smile that emerged across the demon’s face confirmed Jacob’s thoughts.

“That is precisely what I refer to,” Patrick growled. “I see your devotion to it has not dulled your intelligence. That was one of the things I always prized about you. Your intelligence was unmatched by anyone throughout my travels. When I would engage the so-called ‘great minds’ in idle conversation, I always found myself wishing I were conversing with you. The great minds could never reach the brilliance of your insight, my friend.”

Jacob ignored the accolade as he stared hard at the demon sitting at his table. His mind was urging him to entertain its presence no longer. His heart was breaking to think that his friend had done something so evil to have found such a fate as eternal damnation.

“Patrick, what turned your heart so dark? Answer me. What did you do to deserve such a fate? Why were you sent to Hell?”

The demon fell silent. He had evaded the question long enough. He knew the truth of it would break his dear friend’s heart. Yet, Jacob was insisting…

“Do you remember Father Timothy?” the demon purred. He watched Jacob’s face as he searched for the memory of the name.

“Yes,” Jacob finally admitted. “He was one of our teachers at the orphanage. He taught us arithmetic. I liked him. He was always so kind toward us. Why do you mention him?”

“Because he’s in Hell. I found him there during my first few days, before I lost my sense of time. What do you remember of him?”

“Aside from his kindness? Nothing much, really. I admired his faith, his adoration for God.”

“His adoration was for small boys – especially the fairer ones.” Patrick hissed angrily.

“You lie,” Jacob accused.

“Do I? Who do you think opened the door to my own path to Hell? Who do you think schooled me in the art of seducing innocence? Father Timothy played on our wishes to be God’s favorites. If you had been fairer toned, you would have seen that too. He called us all ‘angels’, as if we were the cherubs you see in paintings.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should,” Patrick laughed. “There is a special place in Hell for people like me, like Father Timothy. The theft of innocence is a one way fare to that fate. I have spent many years there and I will not lie about its existence. Do you remember what I looked like when we were boys? Do you remember the night you caught me sneaking from our dormitory?”

“Barely,” Jacob admitted. “It was so very long ago.”

“That it was,” Patrick agreed. “Let me simply tell you that it was not merely a child’s mischievousness that caused me to sneak out night after night. Father Timothy had set me on a path I found delight in. I was eager to please him. I was eager to learn. I believed in his love for me – if one would truly have called it that. It was tangible and I could feel its power.”

“You were a child. You didn’t know any better. It wasn’t your fault,” Jacob offered as he started to reach across the space between them in the gesture to comfort his old friend. He stopped suddenly, though, worried that the physical contact would bind him in some way to the demon that sat at his table. Patrick noticed the movement and grinned.

“Yes,” the word came out like a snake’s hiss, “I was a child; but children grow up to make the decisions of adults. I made my decisions based on my desires and elations. The consequences for my mortal actions have only given me the ultimate desire to wage a war against the lie I was told over and over as a boy. It was the lie I preached about during my years as a man of the cloth. There is a power in the lie, but there is greater power in the truths I have discovered. Join me, Jacob. Discover the truth for yourself and be free from this place once and for all.”

“You would have me forsake God?”

“Why not? He would forsake you without you even realizing it. Your faith in his grace has made you blind to the fact that God left you on your own years ago. I would never forsake you. You would be my beloved, my right hand. I can promise you a love that is the just reward for your faith and loyalty. Join me…”

29: Pierce in Charge

Belinda stared hard at the faces that filled the street. Pierce had led them to this place, to the busy block that housed warehouses and small storefronts. It was a shadowed street and Belinda wondered if it was merely the lack of sunlight, or, something more sinister.

Pierce had not engaged her in conversation as they had followed Louie’s trail. The directions in the Field Guide had come quickly as they came closer and closer to the child’s location. The directions had led them here.

The walk had given Belinda more time to rush over the thoughts that had been brewing for days. Her sadness and frustration had morphed into an irritation that threatened to join the irritation already present over losing Louie. Her anger at Seamus Flannery for playing with her heart to exact a failed revenge on Brigit burned closer and closer to the surface. And everything seemed to pile onto the growing mound of mixed feelings toward Brigit. Belinda was beginning to wonder if she would ever sort it all out.

“We’ve lost him.”

Belinda spun on her heel and glared at Pierce as she focused on what he had said. The intensity of her irritation finally joined forces with the anger and frustration to the point where she was sure beams of fire were shooting from her bright blue eyes. Pierce swallowed hard and took an uneasy step away from her.

“What do you mean we’ve lost him?”

The words came out slowly. Danger was present in every syllable uttered. Quickly, Pierce showed her the last page of the Field Guide. It was completely blank. He swallowed hard once more as he watched Belinda start to shake from head to toe.

“HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN A LITTLE KID?”

The scream echoed off the walls of the warehouses and storefronts, shooting through the air like a blazing cannon ball. Mortals paused momentarily, wondering they had actually heard the question that pierced their brains. Some of them actually looked around quickly, their frightened eyes searching for the source of the scream. Pierce watched the ripple effect of the crowd as it shook the eeriness of the sudden noise off and slowly returned to its business. Belinda, however, closed her eyes and dropped to the depths of her anger. She had never been so angry in her whole existence – alive or dead. She was unable to control it.

“You lookin’ for da little black boy?”

Pierce turned quickly at the sound so close to his right. A little old man in a grocer’s apron stood beside him. There was a concerned look in his old eyes as he stared at the pale girl shaking so violently before them. Pierce noticed the little old man never wavered in his focus. He wondered if he had been wise to do so himself.

“We are, sir. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, ja,” the little man nodded. “He went there.”

Pierce followed the withered man’s finger as it pointed toward the building that housed a small Russian deli. “He went up the stairs. Let me tell you something. You should keep her quiet. You don’t want her provoking some of the others. It’s no good. Dey likes to fight. You keep her quiet,” the little old man instructed as he turned his finger to point in Belinda’s direction.

Pierce cast a quick glance at his irate companion. She was still visibly shaking. Her face had flushed to a bright blaze of scarlet. Pierce had the sense to leave her be for the moment. Her rage so close to the surface would mean a devastating scene if she exploded, and he was keenly aware that they had no time for a meltdown now. Cautiously, he returned his attention to the grocer.

“Are you sure it was a little black boy? He’s this tall and this round,” Pierce indicated Louie’s dimensions with his hands.

“Ja, das him,” the grocer nodded again. “He went there,” the withered finger pointed toward the Russian deli once more. “Go up the stairs.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pierce gushed gratefully.

The old man waved away the gratitude and shuffled back into the crowd. Pierce gave him no more thought as he grabbed Belinda by the hand and began to pull her through the crowd toward the deli. They had found Louie. Things would be right soon. At least, Pierce hoped they would.

Belinda snapped out of the storm of her thoughts as Pierce pulled her along. She had heard the old man’s voice giving Pierce information. She had not heard his words, though. Her anger ebbed only slightly when she realized they were making a beeline for the deli in front of them.

“Let go,” she snapped as she shook her hand free from Pierce’s grasp.

Startled, he did as she commanded and watched as she stormed ahead of him. He had felt somewhat proud that he had taken control of the situation. Yet, at the sight of Belinda storming ahead without him, Pierce felt his pride begin to shrivel.

“Take the stairs,” he called out meekly as she hastened toward the deli.

30: Rushing the Storm

Vida raised her eyes slowly to look at her new adorers. They were all reaching for her, wanting to touch her if only for the briefest of moments. She had proven her power. Tony had been easy to conquer and destroy. His life force had run over her in a torrent when she had put her lips to his throat in the deceptive gesture of nuzzling him. She wished she could have seen the look of surprise in his eyes when she had sank her teeth into that spot where the skin was the thinnest and ripped open the vein that carried his life force. As she drank from the flow, she could feel her power growing. His body crumpled easily as she sated her hunger. When she wiped a hand across her mouth, she noticed everyone’s attention on her. The fear in their eyes, the hunger and, the desire she had ignited within them - it was all exactly what she wanted.

The next one to approach her was wary, keeping a safe distance at first. He was smarter than Tony. She could see it in his eyes. She did not feed on him, though. Instead, she let him get close enough to touch her skin. She let him open her blouse further, baring her scarred skin for everyone to see. She let him push against her until she could feel his excitement. Then, Vida conquered him, exhausting his excitement until he pled for mercy.

She was proving a point, a point the Chupacabras had taken for granted. She was capable of so much more than being the vessel of satisfaction for their physical needs. She could rule them with fear or with pleasure. She had learned to hone these abilities over the last few months. The demons of Hell had taught her so much during their various tortures and she had paid great attention to every minute detail.

Vida smiled as she reached out and felt their energies so close at hand. They would be loyal to her. She would guide them. She would love them, protect them, and destroy them depending on her need at the moment. There was a whole world waiting outside the alley. The small group around her now was just the beginning. They would grow. They would be an army of darkness and she would be their queen. Together, they would bring a storm of panic and fear that no one could ever have dreamed of. The mere thought of it all made Vida giddy with delight.

Katie Rose maintained her silence as she led Brigit and Cahira along the sidewalk. Brigit found it strange that the child had not let go of her hand. She wondered if it was because the child was fearless or if it was because she was determined to protect her father. Cahira also maintained her silence as they walked. Brigit noted that the Immortal’s energy had seemed to relax some now that she had witnessed what Brigit was capable of. It was that, or, Brigit’s energy had finally heightened to match that of the warrior priestess.

Katie Rose led the women two blocks over before stopping dead in her tracks. When Brigit looked at the child, she found the answer to her earlier wonderment. The child had been protecting her father. She had led the women as far as she was willing to go. Although the child was cautiously watching the head of the alleyway before them, the fear she possessed coursed through her small body and danced openly in her green eyes.

“Where is she, Katie Rose?” Brigit asked gently. The child raised a grubby hand and pointed to the alleyway. Brigit and Cahira exchanged quick glances before Brigit returned her attention to the child. “Thank you, Katie Rose. You’ve been very brave.”

Before Brigit could say anything more, the child turned and ran away as fast as her short legs could carry her back to her own neighborhood. Brigit frowned and returned her attention to her companion.

“Why do I have the feeling we’re about to rush the storm head on?” she asked out loud. Cahira smiled wryly as she drew her sword. The hiss of its freedom from the scabbard was barely audible as the woman asked:

“Is there any other way to rush a storm?”

Brigit shrugged and began toward the alley. As she turned the corner, the sight that met her eyes caused her to stop short. Cahira stopped beside her. Together, they stood at the head of the alley watching the swarm of souls half way down it. Brigit felt her stomach knot up tightly. It was a crush of souls that seemed to be growing as each second passed. Her mind quickly began to search for a strategy as her dark eyes settled on the scarred face at the center of it all. Despite its destroyed features, she recognized it at once.

“I’ll be damned,” she swore above her breath. Cahira glanced at her for a second before returning her own sight to the scene.

“A friend of yours?” she asked. Brigit caught the forced note of humor in the other woman’s voice.

“Not by a long shot,” Brigit muttered, “but, I’ve fought with her before. Whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off her.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Cahira replied as she adjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword. “I’ll watch your back,” she promised.

“Thanks,” Brigit sighed before taking the first step toward the storm.

31: Kin

“What you goin’ to do now?”

Mama Dee opened her eyes and watched as the old witch continued dancing her jig of mockery. She had closed her eyes to pray for help. She was gripping the crook of the black umbrella so tightly that she was sure she would have seen her knuckles turn white with the pressure. Mama Dee was frozen. The rules to reaping were rushing through her immediate thoughts. Rule number three in particular was repeating itself over and over: A Reaper shall not reap their own…

Pearl Videaux had just revealed a tidbit of information Mama Dee had never known. The family had never discussed their lineage. They had kept a reverent respect (or had it been fear?) for Millie and Phoebe while they had been alive. After their deaths, though, they were never mentioned again. Mama Dee remembered her own fear of her great-grandmother, Millie. Even as a child, Mama Dee had sensed something dark about the crone that had watched her with a disapproving eye. That dark energy had terrified Mama Dee as a child and when Millie had finally died, Mama Dee had breathed a sigh of relief. She was all too glad to erase Millie from her mind just as everyone else had seemed to do.

As she watched the demon woman stop dancing and turn to face her again, Mama Dee had the final thought that Millie, her great-grandmother, had been powerless to control the dark energy that surrounded her. She had been borne into it. The source of it all now stood leering at Mama Dee as if she were the biggest disappointment of all. And there was nothing she could do without breaking the rules.

“What you scared of, chile?” Pearl growled at her. “Granmere won’t harm you. You’s kin. We take care of our own. I made sure my girls always knew and would pass that down. Take care of the womenfolk. The men can take care of themselves, or at least, they think they can. Let the men think they in control. The women, though, they know the ways. They make sure everything carries on. They have the real power. If the men hurt you, you take from them. You cripple them. You kill them if they don’t see. Your mama teach you that, chile? It was your mama that come from my line, wasn’t it?”

Mama Dee swallowed hard as she thought. Quickly, her eyes darted to where Louie still stood frozen where Pearl had left him. His eyes were closed as if he were in a trance. Mama Dee noticed his tiny fists clenched at his sides as if he were trying to control something inside him. For the moment, he was safe. Pearl’s attention was taken off him. That was all Mama Dee wanted for Louie’s sake.

“No,” Mama Dee finally croaked. “It was my daddy. Millie was his grandmother.”

Pearl shook her head and clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“That is too bad. That means you’re tainted, weak…”

“And you’re full of shit,” Mama Dee countered. Her bravery had flared at the insult.

“Am I? The sons were not to be allowed to live. Give a man a son and he thinks he has power. Give him daughters and he will stay soft. Men have two brains and neither one serve him well. Women, though, they know. They know all the secrets. Stay down!”

Mama Dee started at the screamed command Pearl had issued. The hag’s arm cut out in the direction of Katuri-Buttercup, sending the small Reaper flying again. Mama Dee followed it with her sight, watching as Katuri was pushed against wall. Anger and determination were set clearly on the smaller woman’s features as weight of the invisible force kept her pressed against the wall.

“How did you end up in Hell?”

Mama Dee was unsure where the courage to ask this question had come from. She was stalling Pearl for time. She needed to figure out how she was going to resolve this. A bitter chuckle escaped Pearl, causing Mama Dee to return her attention to her ancient relative.

“That is a good question,” Pearl sighed. “I ask it many times after the Reaper came and push me through the door into the darkness. I wonder and wonder why I was being punished. What exactly did I do?”

“You were pushed through the door?” Mama Dee asked. She was still stalling.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t think Granmere would have crossed the sash so easy, do you? I had unfinished business, chile,” Pearl was chuckling now. “But I gave that Reaper a run for his money – slick little Irish bastard. Come to me all uppity, thinking himself a gentleman. Shit, he was nothin’ compared to the gentlemen of my day. The only good thing about the little cocksucker was his eyes. They were the prettiest shade of blue – almost like ice blue they were. Aside from that, he was just another maggot I would have preferred to squash under my boot.”

Mama Dee swallowed hard. Pearl, her great-great grandmother, had originally been crossed by John Blackwick.

“At any rate,” Pearl continued, “I eventually figured that perhaps I had earned my place there because I was a thief – I took what I deserved.”

“What did you steal?” Mama Dee was confused by the hag’s explanation.

“Whatever served me best. It all boiled down to power. I could take a man’s essence and use it against him. I would take a woman’s secrets and control her to my whims. I would steal a young boy’s energy and carry on through my day knowing that I was the queen and I loved every second of it. I taught my girls how to do this, but I don’t know how much they put to their own use. Obviously, they forgot something if they allowed a boy to live.”

Mama Dee prickled once more at the mention of her father. He had been a decent man, a man of faith, heart and love for everyone around him. Her daddy had never raised a hand or his voice to anyone in his life – especially his wife and daughter. When Mama Dee said as much to Pearl, it brought forth another deep and mocking cackle of laughter.

“Then your daddy was weak, chile. The blood must have thinned to water by the time you came along. You’re tainted. My blood is in your veins, but it is barely a trickle. I can see that now. That’s too bad,” Pearl shook her head. “You are weak.”

The Reaper looked away from Pearl Videaux. Her mind was churning as her anger was trying to make a decision of its own as to whether it should stay or go. For a brief second, Mama Dee met Katuri’s eyes and she made the decision to at least let go of her fear.

“I’ll show you weak,” Mama Dee growled as she raised the black umbrella and swung it with all she had.

The action was enough to distract Pearl. She turned in time to see the tip of the instrument swinging toward her head. The hiss of it as it passed by her nose caused a wild cackle to escape her. As Mama Dee followed through with the wild swing, she felt the woman’s taloned hand connect with her cheek. She felt the burning of the welts left on her skin as she stumbled back with the force. She tried to ignore the stinging as she fell to the dirty wooden floor. From the corner of her eye, Mama Dee saw the demon whirl and snatch Louie up by the arm.

“Let that baby go!” Mama Dee yelled again as she struggled to push herself upright. Her command fell on deaf ears. The demon had Louie’s jaw firmly in her grasp and she was sucking in the air between them. The grey tentacles were starting their sinister dance from the orifices of the child’s head once more.

“Get your fucking hands off him!”

Mama Dee’s head whipped around with breakneck speed at the sound of Belinda’s voice suddenly filling the room. By now, Katuri-Buttercup had found her feet again and was making her way stealthily to the space behind Pearl Videaux. Pierce Nelson stood just behind Belinda, his normally pale face all the more drained of color at the sight before them.

“Belinda, help him,” Mama Dee plead. “I can’t reap her.”

Belinda looked at Mama Dee for half a second before marching across the space where the demon was feeding on the energy she was sucking out of the child. Her rage over ruled her fear as she reached out and grabbed the old woman by the arm. Belinda locked eyes with the hag as Louie fell away. An audible grunt escaped him as he landed on his backside and remained motionless, his eyes frozen wide in terror as he stared at the ceiling.

“I said to let him go,” Belinda growled.

“You don’ know who you be messin’ wit, girl,” the demon countered before backhanding Belinda with enough force to send her flying across the room.

Everyone watched as the Goth girl sailed into the wall headfirst before falling on her face. Everyone held their breath as they waited for her to move.

“You all startin’ to piss Granmere off,” Pearl hissed angrily as she leveled her eyes on Mama Dee. “You goin’ to make me hurt one of my own.”

Mama Dee swallowed hard as she felt the freezing effect of her great-great-grandmother’s evil stare. Mama Dee heard her heart begin to hammer in her ears as the hag began to creep toward her, chanting a spell in a tongue Mama Dee faintly remembered from her childhood.

Suddenly, the room erupted with a shrill war-cry and Mama Dee closed her eyes…

32: Hell Hounds

“Just say ‘yes’,” the demon enticed. “Join me and together we can reveal the lie for what it really is. With the gentlest whisper, we can reveal to all of mankind that the light is just a myth. We can save everyone such heartache with the truth that God does not exist.”

He was trying desperately to keep his patience with Patrick. They had been friends almost since birth. Their paths had ran parallel once upon a time; but as Patrick revealed more and more about his acts – the dark deeds he had indulged in as a man – Jacob found himself more and more disappointed. His heart broke with every revelation. Yet, he wondered if it was with his blindness created by the love he had borne for so long toward Patrick – or if it was from the lies Patrick had convinced himself to be the new truth. Patrick had turned his eyes from the light of God while extolling the gifts of that light. He had lied to so many, hurt so many and Jacob could feel his heart heavy with the idea that he might have been able to stop it – if he had only known…

“Is it a myth if one has the faith that it truly exists?” Jacob countered with a slight smile beginning to emerge across his lips.

“Enough of this,” Patrick suddenly snapped. “The hounds of Hell are surely on my scent by now. My time is limited. I need your answer now, my friend.”

Jacob knew he did not have to search his heart for the answer. He had evaded it as long as he could. He wanted to be rid of this vision before him that had once been Patrick Devlin.

“No.”

The word came out solidly. Jacob Lior, the peaceful one, the ardently faithful, suddenly felt as fierce as a lion. His dark eyes remained steady on the demon sitting across from his as the answer sank in on its mind. He saw the immediate flash of disappointment that gave way quickly to the explosion of anger in the demon’s pitch black eyes. Jacob did not waver. He was not afraid. His faith was suddenly stronger than it had ever been before. Jacob was sure the Divine’s love would protect him from anything this vile being could do as punishment for the rejection. The longer he stared into the black depths that were attempting to pierce him, the firmer Jacob felt his spirit grow.

“I can not even begin to tell you what a mistake you are making, my friend,” Patrick hissed. “I will find others to join me. We will roam the world. We will become an unstoppable legion. We will usher in the darkness that will open mankind’s eyes to the truth. We will take you by force and feed on your so-called ‘Divine Spark’. I gave you an opportunity of choice, Jacob, because you were once my friend. You were as close to my heart as a brother and you have denied me. For what? For a lie! Mark my words, dear brother,” Patrick howled as he rose to his feet and pointed a sharp talon at the silent man across the table. “When you see me again, you will have no choice.”

“I will take that chance,” Jacob answered calmly.

Lance glanced at John Blackwick when he stopped suddenly outside the door where they clearly heard the voices. The Grim Reaper’s face was void of any emotion as he listened carefully to the loudest voice emanating from the other side of the door.

“What is it?” Lance asked quietly.

“I’ve suddenly remembered why I know the assignment’s name,” John admitted. “Bollocks!” he cursed in a hiss.

“Dangerous?” Lance asked. John shook his head.

“Evil, if anything; but who’s to say what other tricks he may have learned in Hell,” John said through clenched teeth as his ice blue eyes focused on the door between them and their quarry.

“Apparently, he aced his course in dark magic,” Lance joked.

“My mother caught on to him quickly. Especially after I kicked him in the shins for no good reason,” John began to babble.

“I don’t follow,” Lance admitted. John turned and leveled his icy glare on his companion. “What are you getting at, Blackwick?”

“Patrick Devlin was a wolf in shepherd’s clothing. He was a pedophile. I had completely forgotten about him after he left Ireland. I was just a lad…”

“Bollocks,” Lance growled, his mood suddenly growing serious.

Jacob did not flinch as the demon continued his angry rant. The addition of the two other souls to the room had re-enforced his lack of fear and deepened his patience further. They had entered silently, their eyes focused on the demon only after assessing Jacob’s demeanor for the briefest of seconds. They were spirits, Jacob was sure, but one of them was only marginally so. Energy rippled around him, announcing that – somewhere – his mortal body still knew a heartbeat. The other man, dressed so solemnly in black, was definitely a spirit long dead to the mortal world. His energy was still, following him as close as a shadow.

It was this spirit that had met Jacob Lior’s brief look upon entering. The man in black had quickly put a finger to his thin lips to indicate that Jacob should also maintain his silence. Patrick did not notice the brief flicker of his friend’s gaze to the darkness behind him. Patrick Devlin was unaware that the Hounds of Hell had finally arrived.

33: Rushing the Storm, Part 2

Cahira was unable to tear her sight from the mess of roiling energy halfway down the alley. She had been trained to fight multiple opponents. She knew what she was capable of during confrontation. After the show Brigit had put on earlier, Cahira had a good idea as to what her companion could do as well. Yet, the warrior priestess was unable to keep up with the calculations in her mind as she watched the swarm continue to grow.

Her electric blue eyes settled on the nucleus of the dark energy. The scarred face of the woman at the center of it all burned its image into Cahira’s mind. The scarred woman was the leader, the hive’s queen. Brigit knew the woman. Cahira had already made the decision to leave the woman to the Reaper, but something about the power the woman seemed to exhibit made Cahira wonder if Brigit would be able to handle her again.

Brigit was silent beside her. Cahira had the sense the Reaper was trying to calculate their odds as well.

“So, how do you want to handle this?” Cahira asked calmly.

“I’m not sure yet. I wasn’t expecting this,” Brigit nodded her head toward the swarm in the alley as she made her admission. “I guess we could push our way in. They’re so focused on her that they probably wouldn’t notice us until it was too late.”

Cahira visualized the suggestion for a second. She frowned and shook her head in rejection.

“That’s no fun,” she commented matter-of-factly.

“What’s your idea?”

“I say we just get it over with. Let’s pick a fight.”

Brigit tore her attention from the scene before them and looked at her companion. The look in Cahira’s electric blue eyes revealed the seriousness of her humorous suggestion.

“You want a fight? Really?”

“I need an outlet,” Cahira replied solemnly.

“You’ve never crossed a soul into Limbo,” Brigit reminded.

“There’s a first time for everything,” the tattooed woman sighed. “Have you ever done it?”

“I have,” Brigit confirmed quietly. She vividly remembered the crossings of Earl Hennessy and Seamus Flannery into the endless void of nothingness that was Limbo. “It gets windy,” she warned quietly as she reached inside her coat and slowly withdrew the Scottish dirk again. “Do you really think they’ll fight?”

“Look at them,” Cahira purred, satisfied that she was going to finally find the release of the tension she had been held in since leaving the temple. Odds set aside, she was ready. “One word from your friend and they’ll be on us like a pack of starving dogs. She’s charmed them, made herself their queen. Whatever tricks she’s learned in Hell, I’ll place a wager she learned them well,” Cahira pointed out.

“Good point, but,”

“But what?” Cahira interrupted.

“She’s not my friend.”

A wry smile crossed Cahira’s lips as Brigit returned her attention to the swarm. The Reaper knew they were rushing into the storm. The melee in the alley had doubled in size since they had arrived. More shadows were filling the space. A quick glance to the west assured Brigit that the shadows were not the result of the setting sun. She guessed there was still a few hours left to the day’s light. She hoped this would be over before the sun’s edge was even close to touching the horizon.

Calming her mind until nothing could be heard but the whispers of the shadows filling the alley, Brigit settled her sight on the point of their hunt. Her grip instinctively tightened on the hilt of the dirk. She was ready.

“VIDA MONTENEGRO!”

Her voice thundered through the alley, ricocheting off the walls of the buildings that created the space. Its echo sliced though the whisper of the shadows that mongered around the demon queen. The sudden heaviness of the silence that followed Brigit’s voice was stifling. As a hundred pairs of eyes turned to face them, Brigit heard Cahira slowly exhale a breath beside her.

“Ready?” Brigit asked quietly.

“Ready,”

Before the two had the chance to take a step further into the alley, the shadows were coming for them. Unconsciously, they turned until their backs were touching as they waited for the onslaught. They were ready. The storm was coming to them.

34: The Denial

“Patrick Devlin,”

The demon whirled at the sound of the new voice addressing him. The sight of the two men standing in the doorway angered him. He had let his guard down during the effort to reach out to his old friend. The hounds had found him. He was cornered.

“Well, well,” Patrick growled, “who do we have here?”

“Our names do not matter, demon,” Lance snapped. “Your time is over. Surrender.”

The demon laughed wickedly.

“Surrender? To you? What gives you the authority to make such a demand?”

“The Divine,” John replied calmly as he stepped closer to the gnarled figure that had turned to face them. His eyes leveled on the black orbs that stared at him over hideous features still dancing with amusement at Lancelot’s demand.

“The Divine? The great myth? Surely you don’t believe its assertion as the true power,” Patrick purred. He peered into the ice blue eyes that watched him without fear. He had seen them before – so very long ago… “Your face is familiar to me, sir. Tell me, where do I know you from?”

John felt his hand’s grip on the head of his walking stick tightening. He wanted to be done with this. One step closer would bring the door to Hell to view. Part of him, however, wanted to remain where he stood. It was that part of him that wanted to provoke Patrick Devlin until he would fight. If the door did not appear, Lancelot could send the demon to Limbo by the slice of his sword’s blade. It was what Patrick Devlin deserved, John felt; but that thought was a mortal thought. John Blackwick the man would have held onto that judgment fiercely. John Blackwick the Grim Reaper, however, knew he could not. It was against the rules. Eternal judgment belonged solely to the Divine…

“I was a child the last time we met,” John admitted slowly. “Our meeting did not last long.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” the demon replied. “Your eyes, they are intriguing. I never considered myself too particular in my tastes, but I’m sure you would have been an exotic dish. Tell me, where was this brief meeting? Perhaps the location would jog my memory,” Patrick suggested. John shook his head.

“I’m here to send you back to your fate, Devlin, not to take a journey down memory lane.”

“Hmph!” the demon grunted. “Jacob, can you believe their nerve? They say they have the authority of the Divine.”

“I heard them, Patrick,” Jacob replied. “I believe them.” The demon turned to face his host once more.

“Still? After all that I’ve told you?” There was a mocking note of surprise in Patrick’s voice. “That’s too bad, Jacob, that’s too bad. Perhaps I was wrong about you after all. I thought for sure you loved me more than to let me travel through all eternity without your friendship. This is very disappointing indeed.”

“You have told me nothing, Patrick,” Jacob answered calmly. “You ascertain that there is some great lie that has blanketed the world, yet, the very thing you deem a lie has always been my truth. You have promised me a power beyond my imagination, yet, you seemed to have failed to notice in all the years we were friends that I was never interested in power. You claim to possess an eternal love for me, but does the cost of your love mean turning my eyes away from my heart’s breath? If this is so, then you never really loved me at all.”

“You’re a fool, Jacob,” Patrick spat with disgust.

“Perhaps,” Jacob shrugged, “but that is my concern and a consequence that I must face when my time comes.”

“Demon, surrender,” Lancelot snapped again. John caught the impatient tone in the command.

“Surrender to what?” Patrick snarled as he turned to glare at the small man holding the sword. “You? What is your intention if I do?”

“To return you to Hell,” Lance sneered.

“That’s it? Please! Surely you could do better to frighten me.”

“The only other option, Patrick Devlin,” John cut in calmly, “is to spend eternity in Limbo. Do you know what that entails?”

The demon eyed John Blackwick with cautious silence. The dark orbs that focused on the Grim Reaper revealed no real thoughts, but John could sense the memories of the rumors running through his mind. Eternal Limbo meant eternal nothing, eternal unknowing. The only one to have ever truly witnessed Limbo had been the angels and the Divine. They had whispered the truth of what really happened there, but over the ages, whispers became stories and rumors. No one really knew for sure what happened there. For so long, the rumor had sufficed. At the moment, it was the rumor that was running rampant through Patrick Devlin’s mind.

“You don’t have that power,” the demon purred. The statement came out as a dare. The dare was answered by the hissing of Lancelot’s sword as it was pulled from its scabbard.

“Oh, but we do,” Lance growled as he lowered the blade defensively.

“Patrick, just go. Return to Hell. At least you will have a knowing. You will pay the price of atonement for your sins,” Jacob urged gently.

“Return to Hell, eh? Do you believe that is punishment enough for all my unholy deeds, Jacob? You’re laughable,” Patrick sneered. “Indeed, you are a joke.”

“Sir,” Jacob turned to the man with the ice blue eyes. “I am weary of this blight against my peace. I ask that you remove it, if that is your ultimate intention.”

“So that’s it?” Patrick demanded. “You, Jacob, would betray and deny me? A lifetime of love, a lifetime of protection – that means nothing to you in the end?”

“Your request of me has erased all that you claim to have done for me in the name of love, Patrick. I do not know you,” Jacob replied firmly.

“That being said,” John interrupted as he took a step toward the intruder. “Patrick Devlin, it is time to return from whence you came.”

John watched as the demon turned slowly to face that door that had appeared. A foul grin spread across his lips as he began to shake his head with the disbelief of it all. John reached for the door slowly, his senses telling him that Lance stood directly behind him, ready to strike at the slightest hint of further resistance. From the corner of his eye, John could see Jacob bearing solemn and silent witness to the moment. As his fingertips brushed the door’s handle, John blinked. It was in the span of this blink that he found himself in the demon’s sudden grasp.

In one swift turn, John felt the demon’s arm wrapped around his throat. He could see the talons of the demon’s free hand raised in the threat of a strike. Before them, Lancelot had raised his sword to strike as well, yet, he hesitated. The demon was using John as a shield. If Lancelot struck the demon, he would have to go through John to do it.

“Patrick, let him go,” Jacob commanded.

John tried to look at the other soul in the room, but his captor’s hold around his neck was a death hold. Despite his inability to see Jacob’s face, he could hear the sudden anger apparent in the devout man’s voice. All he could see was Lancelot’s eyes shifting quickly in an effort to form a strategy.

“This is all your fault, Jacob,” Patrick snarled close to John’s ear. “If you would have been more agreeable, we would not be in this position. We would have been long gone by the time they had arrived.”

“No, Patrick,” Jacob countered. “If anyone is at fault, it is you. Now, release him at once.”

“Lance, take him,” John managed to squeak out.

“I can’t, John. Not without injuring you,” Lance replied as he continued to search for an opening.

“Ah, it seems we have a stalemate,” the demon laughed. “How interesting,”

“No, we don’t,” Jacob commented quietly.

Lance had been holding his breath. While he had been desperately searching for an opening in which to plunge his sword, he had also seen Jacob silently reach for the candle stick sitting in the center of the table. The flame on the candle barely flickered with the movement as the man had picked it up and tilted it down. Wax did not escape the bowl that had been created as the flame had done its gentle slide down the blackened wick. Lance quickly returned his sight to John. In that brief glance, the Immortal and the Reaper exchanged the agreed acknowledgment that the situation was not a stalemate after all.

Jacob breathed in slowly, praying as he watched his hand that held the candle. He prayed for forgiveness. This time, it was not a prayer for his friend, Patrick Devlin. Those prayers had been wasted, it seemed. The demon that Patrick had become was evidence to that fact now. No, the prayer Jacob released to the ears of the Divine was now for himself. As he touched the flame of the candle to the back of the demon’s tattered cloak, Jacob slowly released the breath he had brought in and the hope that his final prayer would be heard.

“God forgive me,” Jacob said out loud as his dark eyes watched the flame take hold to the rags that covered the demon. Slowly, they began to spread.

“There is no God,” Patrick growled as he glanced over his shoulder at Jacob. “Why do you refuse to believe that? What…”

The next question, whatever it may have been was cut short by the appearance of a flame as it crested his shoulder. With a gasp of surprise, the demon jumped back, finally releasing John Blackwick from its dangerous grasp. The Grim Reaper stumbled forward, choking for breath as the foul stench that had been surrounding him suddenly lifted.

“What have you done to me?” Patrick hissed as the flames quickly spread down his arms and breast. Jacob remained silent as he watched them feed hungrily on the intruder.

“Jacob, step back,” Lance called as he stepped forward. The silent man ignored him.

“How ironic,” Patrick sneered as the flames began to crawl up his neck. “Purification by fire.”

“Good-bye, Patrick,” Jacob whispered gently as he met the demon’s black eyes once more. Before the flames entirely covered his hideous face, Jacob was sure he had seen Patrick smile. “Do it,” he directed to Lance out loud.

Lance understood the direction. His sword barely made a sound as it sliced through the stale air and cut through the flames that had, by now, totally engulfed Patrick Devlin. In a burst of a million tiny flames, the demon was destroyed.

35: Taking a Heart

Pierce had watched Belinda storm across the room and confront the old woman that held Louie in her grasp. His hazel eyes had watched in horror as the hag had hit Belinda with enough force to send her flying across the room and head first into the wall. The accountant had held his breath waiting for Belinda to move again. As the seconds crept by, the rapid beating of his heart turned into a deafening thunder. Finally, something broke inside him and he turned to face the hag himself.

Mama Dee opened her eyes as she felt the rush of air pass by her. Pierce Nelson had jumped over her and was bombarding Granmere Pearl with flying fists accompanied by a high pitched scream. The hag seemed to be caught by surprise at the flailing arms of her attacker. Her spell’s chant had been interrupted by the accountant’s war cry. Her taloned hands were raised to fend off the blows that weren’t actually connecting but came dangerously close to doing so. Mama Dee forced herself not to laugh at the sight of Pierce Nelson’s attempt to save the day.

A slight movement behind the commotion tore Mama Dee’s eyes from the scene. Katuri-Buttercup had positioned herself directly behind Pearl Videaux. The solemn look in her dark eyes exposed her intention. She was going to reap Granmere Pearl; but how? Mama Dee knew the smaller Reaper was unarmed. The black umbrella lay beside her on the floor.

Katuri-Buttercup did not acknowledge Mama Dee as Pierce continued his attack on the dark witch. Instead, she braced herself firmly and drew up her right hand to shoulder height. Her small fingers were crooked stiffly to resemble hooks…

“Cover the child,”

Mama Dee heard the instruction in her mind as she tried to guess what Katuri was going to do. It had been the new Reaper’s voice she had heard though she had not seen the woman’s lips move. Quickly, Mama Dee scrambled across the room on her hands and knees and threw herself over Louie. The child made no movement beneath Mama Dee as she raised her eyes to watch the ruckus still going on.

Pierce couldn’t help his rage. He was sure his fists were connecting with the old woman’s head as he swung them as fast as he could. He felt a sense of empowerment as the hag stumbled away from him, her claws raised in defense. The surge of energy urged him to swing all the faster.

Suddenly, a scream of agony eclipsed his own screams of fury. The sharpness of it startled the accountant to the point where he stopped swinging his fists, dropped to his knees and immediately threw up his own arms in protection. When nothing happened to him, he lowered his defenses and watched as Pearl Videaux slowly lowered her eyes to stare at the small fist protruding from her chest.

As a cold wind burst from the walls of the room, pushing itself against all the souls within, Pearl Videaux could be heard cackling as her body crumpled and disintegrated around the small hand that had snatched out her heart.

Pierce Nelson watched with wild curiosity as the old woman disappeared on the wind. His hazel eyes focused on the intense form of Katuri-Buttercup as the winds of Limbo danced around her. When her small frame refused to budge with their force, it seemed as if the wind simply gave up and returned to the walls. Pierce continued to watch the tiny Reaper in awed silence as she opened her fist and released the object she held. With a heavy thud, a black rock landed on the hard wood floor, bounced twice and rolled to rest before him.

“What, how…” Pierce couldn’t seem to string the right words together.

Katuri-Buttercup glanced oddly at him before stepping out of her stance and crossing the room to where Belinda lay. The Goth girl was still unconscious. Pierce felt his panic return.

Mama Dee lifted herself from protecting Louie. His body was still stiff as a board, but his wide eyes blinked at her in rapid communication of his fear.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mama Dee said quickly. “You’re safe now. It’s all over,” she assured him.

“Mama, can you carry the boy?” Katuri asked as she looked up from Belinda.

“I’ll take care of him. Is Belinda okay?”

“She’s out,” Katuri announced, “but she’s still with us. We need to take her out of this place.”

“We should take her back to the office,” Pierce cut in. “Mr. Blackwick will know what to do.” Katuri nodded in agreement.

“Use the portal,” Mama Dee instructed as she struggled to her feet. “I’ll be right behind you,” she promised as she reached for Louie’s stiff arm.

Gently, Pierce and Katuri managed to lift Belinda from the floor and carry her between them toward the door. Mama Dee pulled the stiffened child to his feet. Louie slumped over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes. The little old woman couldn’t help the grunt that escaped her as she stood with the boy in her arms. He was heavier than she had imagined.

Her companions had already entered the bright light of the portal. As she started in their wake, her sight landed briefly on Brigit’s black umbrella. The sight of it gave her cause to look around the rest of the room until she saw Belinda’s black coffin-shaped purse lying against the wall. She didn’t want to leave without these items, but she knew she couldn’t waste anymore time in this place. Belinda was hurt and Louie had been enchanted.

“I’ll come back for them,” Mama Dee decided out loud before resuming her path toward the door. And if I can’t, they’ll just have to understand…

36: The Chase

Standing side by side, Brigit and Cahira were braced for the fight. As sword and dirk sliced through the dark souls' intent on protecting their new mistress, the winds of Limbo rose with gale force. Reaper and Immortal danced through the fight, always coming back to brace against the other as the winds pushed and swirled around them. As one soul ran across their blades, the hunters’ eyes would immediately settle on the next one approaching its demise. At one point, Brigit managed to steal a glance past her immediate attacker and saw that the swarm was beginning to diminish. To her surprise, Vida Montenegro remained, watching as her minions kept the Reaper and Immortal busy. For half a second, Brigit was sure she saw maniacal delight dancing on the Chupacabra woman’s distorted features.

“It’s almost over,” Brigit called over the howl of the wind.

“Good to know,” Cahira called back as she stepped away from Brigit long enough to allow a dark soul to pass between them. Simultaneously, the two women’s blades crossed the other – acting as a pair of scissors cutting through paper. The force that Cahira carried behind her movement swept her in an arc that took out two more souls passing to her left. “Can you still see Vida?”

“Yes,” Brigit confirmed as she ducked and lunged, plunging the dirk deep into the gut of a young man in a torn t-shirt. As he felt back off the blade, Brigit felt Cahira’s frame pressed against her back once more.

“Give me the dirk,” Cahira instructed.

“Why?”

“I can finish the swarm. You need to cross Vida sooner than later – preferably before she has a chance to summon more shadows,” the warrior-priestess explained through clenched teeth as she continued to swing. “They’re blind, Brigit. She’s enchanted them to protect her. Just give me the dirk and go.”

Brigit stopped swinging and stood perfectly still. As if sensing there was only one opponent now, the swarm narrowed and focused its direction toward Cahira. Suddenly, she began swinging her sword all the faster. Brigit could see that her companion was right. The dark souls were blind with their mission. Brigit thrust the dirk hilt first toward Cahira. She took no offense when it was snatched from her hand. Remaining still, Brigit watched as Cahira took a few careful steps away from her. She could feel the Immortal’s hope that the action would pull the swarm away from the Reaper. As the swarm altered its course to follow the warrior-priestess, Brigit saw a momentary flash of a smile cross Cahira’s face. The fight was all hers now.

Brigit turned and leveled her dark eyes on their initial target. The look of maniacal delight was gone from Vida Montenegro’s scarred face as she realized the change in the scene. With a furious scream, the Chupacabra woman turned and bolted in the opposite direction. Her feet appeared to barely touch the pavement as she fled.

“Of course she would run,” Brigit grumbled before setting off in a sprint after her prey. Though she was sure she felt the soles of her boots striking the street beneath them, Brigit sensed she was traveling a lot faster than she thought she was.

Cahira focused on her breath as she whirled and lunged through what was left of the swarm. It had been a very long time since the last fight of this magnitude. There had been a sense of excitement to take hold of her that time. As she made her way through the dark souls around her, the warrior-priestess could feel that excitement beginning to creep up inside her again. She fought hard against that feeling, though. She couldn’t afford to let it take control of her now. The winds of Limbo were too strong against her to lose focus. With every step she took backwards as she fought, Cahira was aware that it was the winds pushing against her. She had never encountered such a force – not even when Mother Nature was at her most destructive…

Brigit followed Vida Montenegro through the busy afternoon streets. As the Chupacabra woman ran, Brigit began to realize that the woman had no idea where she was going. The city she had escaped into from Hell was unfamiliar territory. Eventually, Brigit was sure, the demon woman would either find herself cornered or in the Hudson River.

As she kept Vida in her sights, Brigit began to search for any idea that would end this game quickly. She needed some place that would be able to contain the demon woman long enough to allow Brigit to cross her back to Hell. She suddenly wished Cahira were present in the chase. Together, Brigit knew that she and the Immortal could work together to corral the Chupacabra woman. They looked enough alike that they could come at her from opposite sides and send the woman into a sense of panicked confusion. Brigit had to leave that thought. Cahira was busy. The Reaper was on her own now…

37: Panic

The herd of Reapers burst through the door 666 ½ Bleecker Street with the rush of adrenaline still holding them firmly in its grasp. Although the trip from the abandoned loft in the ghetto to the main office had been short, to Mama Dee it had felt much longer. Perhaps it was because she still held Louie in her arms. The child had yet to move from his enchantment and he was dead weight over her shoulder. Perhaps, Mama Dee further thought as she followed Pierce and Katuri, the trip felt so long because no immediate answer was presenting itself to her as to how to help Louie or Belinda. Like the child, Belinda had not stirred either. The last thought to follow all of this was the original reminder that the whole mess was her fault and it seemed to be getting all the messier…

It was that thought that kept Mama Dee searching and searching frantically for a solution. She couldn’t help but to feel a new streak of panic rush through her as they hurtled down the main hall and she realized they were the only ones there.

“Put her in there, on the bed,” Mama Dee huffed as the group entered John and Brigit’s office and stopped.

She lowered the child into one of the visitor’s chairs before the large mahogany desk where John and Brigit made the daily decisions, and turned to watch as Pierce and Katuri shuffled with their load into the small room where Brigit had made her recovery. Panic set in harder as Mama Dee remembered the worry she had felt when they had placed Brigit in the small room. Brigit had been seriously injured. She had already succumbed to the illness of infection by the time they had brought her back to the main office. The panic rising up in Mama Dee now was pushing a cart full of worry that Belinda had fallen to the same outcome.

“What do we do now?”

It was Pierce Nelson to break the tense silence. Mama Dee entered the small room and pushed past Katuri and Pierce so that she could have a better look at Belinda. Through the dim light, the little old lady could see the black bruise across Belinda’s pale cheek where Pearl Videaux had struck her. Mama Dee touched it tenderly with her fingertips, anger beginning to tinge the edges of her panic. The only relief she felt was that the mark was not hot under her touch. Brigit’s whole body had burned intensely for days during the infection. Anytime Mama Dee had tried to hold her friend’s hand in the effort to comfort her, the heat of the sickness had turned too hot for the little old woman to hold on for much longer than a few seconds. Belinda’s cheek was cool to the touch, but, the bruise was ugly. Mama Dee found herself wondering if it could be dangerous in the long run.

“We need to find John,” Mama Dee finally said. The answer came out jittery. She didn’t care. Any effort to calm her fears was now well beyond her reach.

“I’ll go,” Pierce volunteered.

Before Mama Dee had the chance to look up, Pierce had exited the small room. The sound of his running for the main door echoed off the walls back to her ears.

“I’ll look after the boy,” Katuri offered softly.

“Thank you,” Mama Dee replied with a sigh.

The smaller Reaper exited the room, leaving the old woman standing beside the small bed they had laid Belinda on. Feeling helpless, Mama Dee sank onto the edge of the bed and reached for the young woman’s cool hand.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Her voice was meek. “Everything will be okay. John will know what to do.”

The statement, though offered as a hope, felt empty. A deep sigh escaped Mama Dee. It was followed quickly by a sob as the weight of the entire day suddenly came crashing down on her.

38: Cat and Mouse

Vida kept running. Her feet barely touched the sidewalk as she rushed through the crowds passing around her. The shock she felt emanating off the living when she did not give them the courtesy of stepping around then, but rather, through them gave her a thrill. Once, the fleeing Chupacabra woman allowed herself the time to turn and watch as a well dressed man yapping away on his cell phone suddenly stopped and proceeded to vomit all over the sidewalk. A giggle escaped Vida when she saw his fellow mortals jump away as he struggled to maintain his balance while puking so violently. The glee at the spectacle she had caused was cut short by the appearance of the woman in black rounding the corner and keening her sight on Vida.

The first sight of the dark woman in the alley had sent a mixture of surprise and hate rushing through Vida when she had recognized the face. It had been the dark woman who had sent her through the doorway to Hell. How had this woman found her again? Was it her sole mission to persecute Vida?

The Chupacabra woman had wondered as much as she had watched her new friends turn and attack the dark woman and her companion. The sense of surprise Vida had initially felt at the sight of the dark woman eventually turned into an air of smug delight as she watched her and her companion battling to fend off the swarm of adorers Vida had unleashed on them. Her smugness was quickly replaced with disappointment as she watched her minions falling so quickly across the two women’s sharp blades. The winds that had arisen with the fight had howled with a tone of imminent defeat for the dark souls. Vida could sense her own end eventually coming on that cold, sharp wind.

As the flow of dark souls intent on protecting her began to ebb, Vida had felt a streak of panic rush through her tortured and scarred body. When the dark woman had stepped out of the melee and leveled her dark eyes on Vida, the panic spiked, causing the demon woman to turn and run. As she did so, Vida began to desperately search for a solution to this. A game of cat and mouse was all well and good, but it was wasting her time. Though she was aware that time was an infinite process now that she was a spirit, she was also aware that it could be put to better use. She had plans…

Vida turned a sharp corner and cast a quick glance over her shoulder. The woman in black was closer now. This had to end. Vida knew the sooner it did - the better. As she returned her sight to the street before her, the demon skidded to a stop. Running toward her, the long sword glistening in the rays of the setting sun was the dark woman’s companion. She had defeated the swarm and rejoined the chase. Vida shot a quick glance over her shoulder again and saw that the woman in black was still charging at her full speed.

Quickly Vida looked around herself for a hiding place. She was about to dart again when a movement in the middle of the street caught her eye. A manhole cover had been slid from its place. The appearance of a bright yellow hardhat emerging from the hole beneath it gave her a momentary surge of hope. As the city worker pulled himself from the hole, Vida looked once more at her attackers. A wry smile came to her distorted face as the idea firmed itself in her brain. Hell had been dark and torturous. Vida had eventually found it an easy place to navigate. Surely the tunnels of this city could be no worse.

With a cry of mocking delight, the Chupacabra dove for the hole. The city worker fell back with surprise as the foul smelling energy pushed past him. Brigit stopped in her tracks at the sight of the demon woman sliding down the dark hole, the mocking laughter reaching her ears as Cahira closed the distance between them.

“Go,” Cahira commanded. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Without further hesitation, Brigit followed Vida Montenegro’s path and dropped into the gaping hole. As she fell down the dark tunnel waiting for her feet to once more hit solid ground, Brigit told herself this was madness. Once John found out how far she had gone to complete the assignment, she was sure she’d receive a harsh word or two about putting herself, yet again, in harm’s way.

When her feet finally butted against the firm floor of the tunnel, Brigit felt a sense of renewed determination when she remembered the Grim Reaper’s final instruction before they had all set out to complete their assignments. As she waited the few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, her ears keened against the sudden sterility of the tunnel. She could hear the gentle dripping of water. She could feel the musty heaviness of the air. She could hear the quick sloshing and thumping of the soul moving through the darkness ahead of her. The city was full of tunnels. Brigit knew it could hide her prey indefinitely, elongating the completion of her assignment. As that thought passed through her mind, Brigit felt her irritation finally emerge. As a reminder, Brigit thought once more of John’s final instruction.

“Reap by any means necessary,” she growled as she took her first step into the darkness.

39: All that Remains

As the pile of ash that had been Patrick Devlin finally settled on the floor of the small room, John watched Lance returned his sword to its scabbard. Their eyes met briefly in the acknowledgment to one another that the assignment was now complete.

Slowly, the Grim Reaper turned and leveled his ice blue eyes on Jacob Lior. The solemn man had sank into the chair at the small table, his own dark eyes watching the small flame that danced slowly atop the candle he had used to ignite his former friend. John felt a slight pang of pity for the soul he now watched. The responsibility to bring the demon to its demise had not been Jacob’s, yet he had taken it on. That small fact had not missed John’s attention as he had struggled to regain his breath. Jacob had stepped in to save him when it was not his burden to bear.

“How long have you been waiting, Jacob?” John asked gently.

The man’s dark eyes flicked momentarily to look John over before returning to the flame of the candle.

“A long time. I have lost count of the days,” Jacob replied quietly. “I am waiting and I will continue to wait until God decides he is ready to receive me.”

“Do you believe it is God’s choice that you continue to do so?”

“What else could it be? I am his servant. I have never questioned the path I have traveled. Every step has been guided by God. Every deed has been undertaken in absolute faith that it was God’s will. Even now, this action I have taken to destroy a soul I loved, it was with the conviction that it was all God’s will,” Jacob explained. John watched as the man’s lips trembled with the sadness that rode on his words.

“What if you have another choice?” John finally asked. The question brought the man’s dark eyes to firmly settle on the Grim Reaper. “What if you could leave this room and be an agent of the Divine? Would you be interested?”

“I’m not sure I fully understand your question, sir,” Jacob admitted. “Who are you?”

“My name is John Blackwick,” John offered. “I am the Grim Reaper. My companion here is Lancelot DuLach.”

John watched as Jacob processed the introductions slowly. Finally, the man shook his head to clear the image the term ‘Grim Reaper’ conjured.

“What is this choice you propose, Mr. Blackwick? I still do not understand. How are you an agent of the Divine? To my knowledge, the Grim Reaper is the agent of Death, the ferryman of a soul from life to the end of its existence.”

John couldn’t help but to smile faintly at the other man’s admission.

“Actually, the Grim Reaper is the ferryman of a soul to its fate. There is another that brings the actual cessation of life; but that is an explanation and introduction for later should you choose to accept this choice I offer you.”

“And what is this choice?”

“To be a Reaper,” John answered. “Come to work for my firm.”

“Why?” Jacob asked, not revealing any emotion by John’s revelation.

“I propose it because I can see that you are a patient man. You are brave and seem to pass no judgment. These are qualities I look for. We assist waiting souls to their judgments by the Divine. We open the doors for them, we wish them eternal peace. It’s a fairly simple job, really,” John explained.

“And in situations such as the one that has brought you to my door? What then? You and your friend have sent Patrick to Limbo. Do you think I would have the heart to do as you have done? The sadness on my heart now with the mere knowledge that I even played a part in his eternal demise causes me to beg forgiveness. Can God show me mercy for what I have done?” Jacob was growing irritated. He needed to think. He needed to pray.

John could see the other man’s confusion dancing through his dark eyes. He was aware that any further pressing would only shut the man completely down. Time was warranted here. With a sigh of acknowledgement, John nodded and reached into the hip pocket of his coat. Carefully, he removed the Reaper’s Field Guide and placed it on the table before the potential recruit. John watched as Jacob let his gaze fall across the words on the front.

“I will give you time to consider the offer,” he explained. “I will return to hear an answer from you by morning.”

“And if I decline your offer?” Jacob raised his eyes to meet the ice blue gaze of the Grim Reaper.

“Then I pray you are truly prepared to face your fate. I will have no choice but to cross you.” John answered firmly. “Please consider it, Jacob Lior. I would be pleased to have someone such as yourself within my firm.”

“I will pray,” was all Jacob could say.

With that, John turned and nodded to Lance in indication that it was finally time to go. Lancelot exited the room first, his sword safely sheathed in his hand. As they returned the way they had entered, Lance looked over his shoulder at John. He was concerned by the serious look on the other man’s face.

“Do you think he’ll come aboard?” Lance inquired.

“No, but it was worth my energy to ask.”

“What would convince him not to join the firm?” The Immortal sounded confused.

“Rule number two,”

“Which is?”

“A Reaper shall not subscribe to any ideology. I heavily suspect that Jacob Lior will not abandon his faith for any one or any reason,” John explained as he stepped off the stairs that led up to Jacob Lior’s tiny apartment.

“For some souls, their faith is truly all they have,” Lance offered as he reached for the door.

His fingers had barely brushed the handle when the door suddenly burst open. The sudden motion caused the Immortal to jump back, instinctively drawing his sword again. The flash of light that reflected off its long blade sent their intruder into a fit of shrieking hysterics that caused John and Lance to stop and take a hard look at who had actually come through the door.

“Don’t kill me!” Pierce Nelson shrieked from behind upraised arms as he crouched against the wall furthest away from the sword.

“Mr. Nelson?” John was honestly surprised to see the firm’s assistant record keeper huddling against the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“Please don’t kill me,” Pierce whimpered again as he glanced up at Lance with pleading eyes. Realizing that the former accountant was preoccupied with the Immortal holding the sword, John laid a gentle hand on his companion’s shoulder. Lance put the sword away while trying to stifle the urge to burst out in laughter.

“Mr. Nelson, you’re already dead and you’re safe,” John reminded and assured the crouching man. “Now, again, I ask you: What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need you back at the office. There’s been an incident,” Pierce blurted out. Although Lance had sheathed his weapon, the record keeper kept a wary eye on it.

“Who’s hurt?” John asked quickly.

“Miss Yaris, sir,” Pierce answered just as quickly. Before he was finished explaining, John had already run for the door, leaving Pierce and Lance still staring at each other.

“Shouldn’t you join him?” Lance asked solemnly as Pierce swallowed hard. Quickly the nervous Reaper nodded and entered the bright light of the portal waiting at the door.

As the Reaper disappeared from sight, Lance shook his head in amusement. The portal would not take him without a Reaper’s assistance. He would have to find his own way back to Manhattan where his mortal body lay under the watchful eye of the interim priestess at the temple. Stepping out into the late afternoon sun, Lance mused that it was a good time for a walk anyway. Enough had happened through the day since his run-in with Gabriel that morning that a leisurely stroll back to the city would be just enough to clear his mind.

40: Ending the Chase

Brigit had taken only a few steps when she felt another presence behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and found that Cahira had finally joined her. There was a perturbed look on the Immortal’s face.

“Took you long enough,” Brigit grumbled as she returned her attention to the darkness in front of them. Cahira ignored her companion’s remark as she stepped closer.

“I hate tunnels,” she growled as she withdrew the sword from the scabbard across her back. “Here, take this. I’ll need my hands,” she instructed as she shoved the sword into Brigit’s hand.

“Where’s my dirk?” Brigit asked as she shifted the weapon from her left to right hand.

“I lost it in the fight, sorry,” Cahira apologized as she raised her own hands before her, palms facing once another.

Brigit watched intently as tiny blue threads of energy began to shoot from the other woman’s palms. The threads bounced off the opposite palm and ricocheted back with increased speed until they were a revolving ball of light. It was just enough so they could see further into the darkness ahead of them.

“Would you look at that,” Brigit breathed in awe. “You’re a lantern.”

“Ha-ha,” Cahira retorted. “Stay close. I sense your friend is looking for a place to hide.”

“I think you’re right. Lead on.”

Together, they crept down the tunnel lit by the ball of blue light between Cahira’s palms. Brigit held the sword high, ready to defend them from any ambush that should come from the intense darkness around them. As she kept half an arm’s length behind the Immortal, she wondered briefly why her companion would have cause to hate tunnels. As Brigit took another careful step, she felt a rush of movement go through her boot. The feeling startled her to the point of jumping back. Cahira turned quickly at the hissed curse that escaped the Reaper.

“What was that?” Cahira asked as she turned and searched for the cause of Brigit’s surprise. A slight movement against the wall caught their attentions and both women let out a breath of relief. “That’s the biggest freaking rat I’ve seen in a long time,” Cahira commented. Brigit heard the note of disgust in the other woman’s voice.

“You should have felt it,” Brigit said as she eyed the animal hovering beside the wall. It’s beady black eyes glowed grey as they reflected the light of Cahira’s blue orb.

“No, thank you,” Cahira returned before turning away. “That’s part of the reason I hate tunnels.”

As the familiar quiet of the tunnel began to settle itself around them again, it was interrupted by a new sound. Brigit’s ears pricked at the familiarity of the sound and the seeming closeness of it.

“She’s just ahead,”

“So I hear,” Cahira concurred.

Together, the two proceeded quietly toward the noises emanating through the darkness before them. As they walked, the high pitched clink of chain links against the concrete alerted them that they were drawing near. Reaper and Immortal maintained their silence as they followed the sounds. Brigit’s eyes had grown accustomed to the blue light Cahira had created. Beyond its glow, she could detect the curve of the walls as they rose a few feet above their heads to form an arch. She could see the rodents as they scrambled to hide from the light.

Although her eyes told her that they were safe at that very moment, every other sense Brigit possessed warned her to maintain vigilance. Cahira was unarmed. By taking the Immortal’s sword, Brigit had taken responsibility for her life and the protection of it. That notion kept Brigit intent on being alert.

They had walked another twenty feet before the tunnel forked into a ‘y’. Brigit and Cahira paused at the exit of the corridor they had come through. The sound of chains against the concrete had suddenly ceased.

“Do you sense her at all?” Cahira asked in a whisper.

“No,” Brigit admitted. She had tried to find Vida with an open mind, but there had been no whisper of a thought from the demon woman. “Either she’s not thinking about anything or she has her thoughts shielded.”

“I would bet on the latter,” Cahira commented. “I can only imagine all the tricks she learned based on where she’s been.”

“Hmph, she wasn’t there that long,” was the only reply Brigit gave. Her mind was working. Which way to go? The idea of splitting up again had occurred to her; but that idea was quickly squashed. She had to protect Cahira. Aside from the persistent thought that she had taken responsibility for the Immortal’s well being, something deep in her gut told her that Cahira was more important in the grand scheme of humanity than just that of a warrior-priestess that would live forever.

“What’s it goin’ to be, girls? Do you go right, or left?”

The question sliced through the silence that had settled between them as they had stood trying to make a decision. The voice seemed to come from all around them; but the huntresses were well aware that it was the mere trick of ricocheting echoes off the close walls.

“Vida, show yourself,” Brigit called out.

“Why should I? I’m having fun,” the demon called back. “What’s your beef with me anyway? I never did anything to you.”

“It’s not personal,” Brigit called as she felt every hair on the back of her neck starting to stand on end. “It’s just business. You were a part of an assignment, that’s all.”

“An assignment? What are you? A hit man for the mob? I know we pissed a few people off in our time, but Jesus H. Christ, whoever you work for must carry a serious fucking grudge,” Vida called. The amusement in her voice bounced off the walls easily.

“You could say that,” Brigit answered as she slowly scanned the area around them until her eyes met Cahira’s. Cahira seemed as baffled as Brigit as to which direction to take.

“I’ll tell you what,” Vida called out. “Take a message to your boss for me.”

“What would that be?” Brigit called back as her eyes settled on the darkness just behind Cahira.

Something had moved there and her instincts told her it was definitely not a rat. She kept her composure. Although Cahira was between them, Brigit knew she had to let their quarry make the first move. It was the only way Vida would step out. Brigit cast a quick glance at Cahira and realized the other woman had already intuited the situation and the plan. A slight tilt of the head acknowledged Brigit’s thoughts and Cahira’s agreement to them. Instinctively, Brigit’s grip on the hilt of Cahira’s sword tightened as she returned her attention to the wall of shadows just behind her companion.

“Tell your boss to fuck off.”

There was no echo with the statement. It shot through the stale air as an angry hiss followed by the sudden slither of chains across the concrete. As if she felt the line of direction, Cahira dropped to her knees just as the chain sliced through the air over her head. Brigit stepped back and raised the sword in preparation to strike as Vida stepped into the very edge of the light created by Cahira’s orb. Still swinging the chain, the Chupacabra woman quickly planted a boot against the Immortal’s back and pushed her face down, extinguishing the light she carried between her hands. A slight grunt erupted from Cahira as the tunnel fell into immediate darkness. Brigit kept the sword poised to strike.

“I prefer intimate moments in the dark,” Vida sneered as she swung the chain in the general direction of the Reaper. She felt a slight sense of elation as the tip of the link connected in the dark with its target. That slight sense of glee was followed by a sudden arrow of disappointment when she heard no reaction.

Brigit bit her lip to keep from vocalizing the surprise of the chain’s cold bite as it sliced across her cheek. Her mind spewed a short burst of curses as she took two steps back with the hope that Vida wouldn’t take as many steps forward. The spot on her cheek stung. She knew the chain had broken the skin, but she was unable to tell if it was something serious enough to further distract her thoughts at the moment. She wasn’t about to change the grip on the sword to find out, either. Her mind began searching for Cahira’s energy as she tried to tune her other senses to their highest levels so that she could quickly locate Vida.

“Brigit, step to your right…”

Brigit followed the instruction that passed through her mind. She was immediately grateful that Cahira had finally made the connection.

“Can she hear you?” the Reaper inquired as she planted her feet firmly against the tunnel’s floor.

“No, I’ve been trying to communicate with her. She is mentally deaf.”

“Can you see her?”

“She’s to your left, about two feet away. Stay still. Take her from behind.”

“Where are you?”

“On the floor, against the far wall.”

“Stay there.”

Brigit remained stone still as she keened her ears to their utmost capacity. She could hear the whoosh of the chain as Vida crept by her swinging it rapidly in preparation for another strike. The Reaper held her breath as she counted the paces Vida took away from her. At the count of three, Brigit finally swung the sword. She felt the tip of it connect, but with what, she wasn’t sure. It was a blind strike and Brigit felt sure she had missed her true mark.

“Is that all you got, bitch?” Vida laughed.

“I’m just getting started,” Brigit answered out loud as she mentally asked Cahira to shed some light on the situation once more.

Almost instantly, the room was ablaze in light. This time it wasn’t just a blue orb contained between Cahira’s hands. This time, it was a revolving ring of the blue light burning with enough intensity that it almost faded to white. The surprise of it sent Vida stumbling back against it. The smell of burning skin filled the stale air as the surprised woman howled in pain. Brigit noted that she didn’t drop the chain in her hands despite the searing of her flesh against the wall of light. Vida Montenegro was determined to keep fighting.

“Give it up, Vida. There’s no way out of this,” Brigit warned as she watched the scorched woman regain her composure. The black orbs of her eyes focused on Brigit with intense hatred.

“Who are you to make that choice?” Vida snarled as she readjusted the chain in her grip. She shortened the striking end. She intended to be close for the damage she wanted to inflict.

“I didn’t make the choice. I was just given the assignment. I intend to make sure its completed.”

Brigit slipped a hand into her coat’s pocket and withdrew the ratty piece of newspaper Vida’s name had been written on. While it was not the woman’s personal file, Brigit was sure its appearance would once more bring forth the door to Hell. When she had it firmly in her hand, Brigit waited as she kept her attention on the whirling end of the chain Vida had resumed swinging. Her cheek still smarted (she imagined) where the chain had made contact earlier. Brigit had no intention of being hit again.

“What are you waiting for?” Vida taunted.

“A doorway.”

“To where? Hell? I’ve already been there,” the demon laughed. “Do you really think you can send me back?”

Brigit tightened the grip on the sword once more. The door had not appeared as she had thought it would. There was definitely no choice in the matter now. Vida Montenegro was to be sent to Limbo.

“It seems Hell doesn’t want you back,” Brigit announced quietly.

“Ha! They’re just afraid I’ll take over,” Vida’s laughter danced through her words. “I learned too much there. Maybe they took out a restraining order. So come on, take your best shot. I’m ready for you this time.”

Slowly, Brigit exhaled the breath she had been holding. She didn’t like the idea of being the one to strike first, but she knew that if she didn’t, the stand-off would only continue. It was time to end the chase.

“Good-bye, Vida,” Brigit offered before closing the distance between them.

Cahira watched calmly through the wall of burning light she had surrounded the Reaper and the dark soul in. She saw the reflection of the blue light bounce off the blade of her sword in Brigit’s hand as it sliced through the air in a graceful arc. Vida Montenegro had finally slung the chain in her hand toward Brigit in the attempt to divert the attack; but Brigit stayed true to her target. Cahira’s eyes followed the path of the blade as if it were traveling in slow motion. She watched as the blade connected with the dark soul in that place where the shoulder meets the neck in a gentle, upward slope. As Brigit drew the sword down, the body of the demon fell apart easily with the diagonal angle on its continued path. Brigit’s upper body twisted in time to elude the end of the chain that had been aimed at her head once again. The look of shocked awareness in the deformed woman’s face told Cahira that the end had finally arrived.

As the body fell apart in the wake of the single blow, a fierce wind blasted from the tunnels around them. Cahira closed her eyes against it as it whipped all around her. The ends of her black hair striking at her cheeks stung fiercely as they were whipped about. She pushed her weight down into her knees as she struggled to keep her arms wide spread for the light Brigit needed. The wind was incredibly strong in such a narrow space. The sound of its howl was deafening.

“Cahira,”

The sound of Brigit’s voice reaching through the reverberations of the wind caused the Immortal to finally open her eyes. The wind had gone as quickly as it had come. Her face burned with the welts left by her hair and her ears were ringing. Through the wall of light that she had managed to maintain through the windstorm, Cahira saw that Brigit stood alone.

“It’s done,” Brigit announced calmly. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Cahira replied before dropping her arms. The ring of light vanished, yet the walls seemed to hold the memory of it. A faint glow emanated off the bricks that rose up and over their heads.

Brigit stepped close, extending her free hand to help Cahira stand. The Immortal took the offered hand, noting the iciness of the skin against her palm. It was the sudden reminder that Brigit was – and always would be – a spirit.

“Thank you,” Brigit said once Cahira was on her feet again. Cahira looked at her companion. Through the glow off the walls, she could see that Brigit was extending the sword back to her. Slowly, Cahira took the weapon and returned it to its home across her back.

“Any time,” the Immortal promised before turning and leading the way out.

41: Bravery

Her dark eyes were boring steadily into the wall. She had not released Belinda’s hand when her thoughts had come running with the full intent of being heard. The cool weight of the girl’s hand seemed to keep the old woman grounded. One by one, the thoughts paraded across her mind – some mocking, some sympathetic – reminding Mama Dee that the day’s entire mess had been birthed by the making of a decision she was not qualified to make. She had not been sure when she had made that decision whether she could actually accomplish what she set out to do. She had made the decision based on the surety of it being the same decision that Brigit would have made without hesitation; but Mama Dee could see now that Brigit was so much more capable of handling intense situations. Brigit was so much braver than she was. Mama Dee suddenly felt so useless with that thought.

She was withering with the comparison of bravery when John Blackwick appeared. When he paused in the doorway, Mama Dee turned her eyes to him. Although her eyes acknowledged his presence, her mind was still examining her lack of bravery. The vision of John entering the small room slowly began to push out the tormenting thought, but, Mama Dee was sure she could hear it whispering: Resign…

“What happened, Mama?” John asked quietly as he approached the small bed where Mama Dee sat holding Belinda’s pale hand.

“She was hit,” Mama Dee replied evenly. “Is Brigit okay?”

“Yes. I’ve already called for her. She should be here soon. Are you all right?” John asked as he leveled his gaze on her face. He could see the sadness that was filling her. It’s murky waters swirled strongly in her dark eyes.

“I don’t know,” Mama Dee answered quietly.

“Would you care to talk?”

“No, I don’t know, not right now. I think I need to rest, to think, I don’t know…”

John eyed the small woman before him. He could see that she was sinking slowly under the weight of the day’s chaos. He wished he could compel her to open up and expose every thought she was thinking; but he could see that Mama Dee was holding onto those thoughts. It was as if she wanted to examine them over and over until she came to some sort of decision on her own. Admittedly, he had been peeved when the whole debacle had come to light. Now, John could feel his sense of compassion returning. He knew what Mama Dee was going through. He had been in her position himself a time or two during his own beginnings as a Reaper. Mama Dee, despite her maturity of years when she had crossed the threshold of life into the after life, was still relatively young in her experience.

“When you’re ready, then,” was all John could say as the sound of heavy footsteps could suddenly be heard running up the hall toward the small room.

John recognized the particular sound. Brigit had returned. Mama Dee seemed to recognize them as well. The little old woman suddenly stood to her feet and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” John asked as Mama Dee side-stepped Brigit’s entrance into the room.

“I’ll be back,” Mama Dee promised hurriedly before disappearing out of sight.

Brigit and John exchanged curious glances as the sound of Mama Dee’s retreat could be heard softly echoing down the hall.

“What happened?” Brigit asked.

The confusion and worry was evident in her voice. Her attention settled on the still form of Belinda. The pale girl seemed to glow in the dim light of the small room. It was the same room Brigit had returned to her own awareness in. She imagined, for a second, that this was how it had looked when it had been she that lay unconscious on the small bed as Belinda did now. Another step brought Brigit closer to the bed, her eyes fixating on the black handprint across Belinda’s cheek.

“Mama only said that Belinda had been struck. She gave me no other details,” John sighed as he returned his own attention to the same point that was holding his assistant’s attention. “What happened to your cheek?”

“I met a chain’s end. I’m all right. Is anything broken?” Brigit asked, turning the conversation back to Belinda. She had given her cheek no further thought once she had convinced herself it was just a scratch. John’s question brought to mind that it might actually be worse than that; but Brigit would worry about it later. Right now, she was worried about her friend.

John reached out and gently turned Belinda’s face so he could better examine the extent of the bruise. The black handprint was slowly darkening before their eyes, as if venom were pooling beneath the ivory skin. Brigit half expected to see it start moving beneath its pale shield.

“We no longer break, Brigit,” John sighed heavily. “That should be apparent to you by now. We are spirits. We may still have our mental capacity and our emotions because we have chosen to remember our mortal existences; but the human soul has no bones to break.”

Brigit kept her dark eyes on the clotted bruise on Belinda’s cheek.

“We may not break, John, but I know we can still bleed. I know we can still die a second death and, I know for a fact that we can burn with infection until we are insane,” John looked up at his assistant with a curious gleam in his ice blue eyes. “I also know,” Brigit continued quietly, “that the human soul can be crushed until it is nothing more than a puddle for someone to walk through. It takes a very long time for that soul to regain its strength, to stand tall again. Sometimes, it takes a life time.”

John returned his eyes to Belinda as Brigit’s words sank in on him. Although she was examining the bruise on her protégé’s cheek, her words had been about someone else. The Grim Reaper found himself wondering exactly who Brigit could be referring to, or if it was merely a general lesson to be remembered. Brigit was a keen observer. John had noticed as much about her since the day she had agreed to join the firm. He had suspected that her sense of observation had been a trait she had carried with her into her death.

“Sometimes,” Brigit’s voice was low and even, “a soul lacks the bravery to even try again. Sometimes, one could use a little help – just to be brave again.”

John cast one more glance at Belinda before stepping back. A deep sigh escaped him as he crossed his arms across his chest. His assistant’s words were holding fast to his mind. She was being specific with her generalization, yet he couldn’t figure it out. It was almost like a riddle. John had never really cared for riddles.

“Did you close the door?” John finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Right then.” He could think of nothing more to say.

“Take a break, John. I’ll sit with Belinda,” Brigit suggested, finally looking up at him.

He searched her face for any sign that would suggest he should remain, but he found none. He imagined Brigit would be deeply concerned about her young friend. He suspected that she had an even deeper reason for keeping vigil. Finally, John nodded in agreement, running a restless hand through his ebony hair.

“Call me when she wakes,” he requested.

Brigit only nodded in reply. Resigned to the thought there was nothing left to do, John turned and quietly exited the small room.

42: Observations

Katuri-Buttercup watched as John exited the small room where they had laid Belinda. He passed through the office without a glance around. If he had taken that glance, Katuri was sure he would have inquired about the welfare of the child that was slumped in the chair like a rag doll; but the Grim Reaper was obviously distracted by his thoughts. The small woman did not feel it was the right time – nor her place - to pull his attention elsewhere.

Her own eyes returned to the slumped form of the child sitting on the other side of the mahogany desk. The enchantment Pearl Videaux had cast on him was beginning to wear off and his body was finally starting to relax. Katuri wondered if the child would remember his encounter, or, if he would block it out due to the nightmare she was sure it had been for him. Children, she had observed, were quite capable of finding ways to cope with traumatic events. She hoped the child across from her had carried these coping skills with him in his death…

Katuri sighed softly and let her eyes roam around the office where she had sat earlier that day waiting for Brigit Malone to greet her. The walls were lined with the completed ledgers of every soul the firm had passed – in one way or another – to their final fates. Katuri wondered briefly how many more books the shelves could hold before they bent with the weight of time. The thought faded quickly. Katuri-Buttercup was of the mind that time would continue its eternal march. Time was something to be minded by the living. Once one passed the threshold into death and the afterlife, time no longer needed to be observed. Life was meant to be lived while a soul was mortal. Unfortunately, Katuri knew, it was lesson most mortals were well aware of, but, paid no attention to until that moment when their life was at its end.

The small Reaper sighed again. She was distracting herself with these thoughts. She knew as much. She admitted as much as she laid her hands in her lap and cast one more glance at the child. She was trying to cope with the excitement of the day. She was trying to calm the chaos that was still present in her actions. She had passed another soul into Limbo. The memory of the weight in her hand as the winds had howled around her was still present. It was always this way. Even when the taking of an existence was justified, the weight of someone’s dark heart clutched in her tiny hand was remembered.

Reflex caused Katuri’s hand to close until her mind registered there was nothing present in her palm. She closed her eyes to examine the scene once more. Pearl Videaux had given her no choice. Katuri had acted for the good of them all. Her conscience told her that as she remembered how Belinda Yaris had looked laying on the floor, and how Mama Dee had frozen with the bindings of protocol upon finding out her relation to the assignment. Katuri watched the memory of Pierce Nelson as he had advanced on Pearl Videaux in the blind and wild fury of a man that had never known a fight. Yes, Pearl Videaux had given Katuri no other choice than to protect her new companions. The taking of her heart had been the only option.

A slight sound caused Katuri to open her eyes again. At the same time, she opened her clenched fist. As her dark eyes settled on the source of the sound, Katuri let loose her breath and the images that had played out in her mind. She was done with them. Time to move on.

“Is he hurt?”

Brigit’s voice was calm, yet Katuri could see the intense concern in the Assistant Grim Reaper’s eyes. Brigit had not had the time to assess the welfare of her staff as she had rushed into the main office. Katuri guessed the other woman would make the time to do so now – one soul at a time.

“No. He has been enchanted; but I believe he will survive,” Katuri replied.

“And you? Are you all right?”

Katuri met the other woman’s gaze. Brigit was studying her – looking for any sign that would betray the words she would offer.

“I am fine,” Katuri answered honestly. “Are things always like today?”

A slight chuckle escaped Brigit as she pushed herself away from the door post where she had been leaning. Katuri watched silently as the assistant crossed the space and sank into the empty chair next to the child. She examined him closely for a few moments before leaning back and shaking her head.

“Lately, it seems that way. Normally, no, it’s rather mundane. I suppose the chaos is my fault, though. I’ve been slightly emotional and I think it’s led to more problems than I’ve taken into consideration. I’m sure John will have a bit to say about it once everything is back to normal,” Brigit predicted.

“You do not sound overly worried,” Katuri commented. Brigit had issued her prediction calmly, as if she were not afraid of John Blackwick’s power.

“On the contrary,” Brigit rebutted, “I am. John could very well use me as an example. I am his assistant, but an assistant can easily be replaced. While I agreed to be John’s assistant, I feel like I’ve let him down because I am still learning to control what my heart tells me to do. This job deals with so many other people’s emotions, sometimes it’s hard to ignore my own feelings in the process,” Brigit confessed. Though her gaze was focused on the desk, Katuri could see that the dark woman’s eyes were actually gazing at the truths tumbling across her lips.

“Emotions are a part of human nature. Without them, we would be cold and hungry ghosts.”

Brigit’s eyes snapped up to meet the small Reaper’s. A slight smile emerged on the Assistant’s face as the comment settled in on her mind.

“I agree,” she said. “I hope John will as well.”

“I sense that he will.”

“Did you notice where Mama Dee went?” Brigit asked, glancing sideways as the child beside her made the effort to move. All he had managed, however, was the rolling of his head from his chest to his shoulder. His eyes were blinking in the attempt to recognize his surroundings. Brigit reached over and squeezed the boy’s fat hand in a calming gesture. Katuri saw it as a sign of Brigit’s compassion.

“She left without telling me,” Katuri said quietly. Brigit sighed and shrugged.

“She’ll be back soon. Mama Dee will want to be here when Louie wakes up,” Brigit said even though she could clearly see that the child was already wide awake. “In the mean time, I should sit with Belinda. Is there anything you need?”

Katuri shook her head in denial. She was fine. She would continue to watch the child until Mama Dee returned. When she said as much, Brigit nodded and rose from the confessional seat. Katuri’s eyes watched the tall woman until she disappeared back into the small room to resume her vigil at Belinda Yaris’ side.

As she settled her head against the tall back of the leather chair that Brigit had began her day in, Katuri was comforted by the notion that she had requested a good person to work for.

43: Choices: A Lesson

There was a tree by the edge of the pond. Beneath that tree, there was a small iron bench. John’s ice blue eyes settled on that spot as he crested the arch of the bridge spanning the small creek that fed the pond. Twilight was slowly settling in the colors of peach and orange. When John sank onto the bench, he finally let his thoughts loose to bounce off the walls of his mind. His gaze settled firmly on the ducks swimming idly across the surface of the water. Everything around him was quiet. He was fine with that. The ruckus of his thoughts was loud enough.

Everything was a mess. The business of the firm was spiraling so far from what it had been before he had taken over – before Araxius Herodotus had abandoned him. Why had his mentor been so confidant that John could carry on? What had made the original Grim Reaper believe that John Blackwick could maintain the steady keel through the endless waters of the afterlife? Was he trying to grow the business too fast? Did he need to focus more on the training? What could he do to straighten it back out? The thoughts and unanswered questions rumbled through his mind like a flashflood through a box canyon. There was no escape from the dangerous waters.

“May I sit with you, young man?”

John looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice that had broken through the flooding thoughts. The ancient lady beneath the broad rimmed, leopard print hat smiled easily at him. The fuchsia tint of her lipstick was barely a shade darker than the rouge on the plump apples of her cheeks. A sprig of bright red holly berries had been pinned to the lapel of the deep purple wool coat that was assuredly too warm to be worn on such a fair-weathered spring day. Even the chartreuse knit scarf around her sagging neck looked as if it would smother her at any moment.

“Of course, madam. Please,” John stood and offered a hand to assist her to the empty space beside him.

The ancient lady ignored his outstretched hand as she stepped back to maneuver a wire push cart to the end of the bench. John watched with mild curiosity as she parked the over stuffed contraption and carefully made her own way to the empty space on the bench. John glanced at the contents of the cart. He wondered why the old lady would carry so many of her worldly possessions with her. She appeared well-kept, if not well color-coordinated. Her energy was not contained to the immediate space around her. It radiated all around them. John knew he should not question how she could see him. There were too many possibilities as to why. Instead, he kept his silence. There was enough on his mind already.

“This has always been one of my favorite spots,” the old woman declared with a note of joy in her voice as she cast her gaze across the pond with its ducks and reflections of twilight swimming on the surface.

“Do you come here often?” John inquired as he resumed his seat.

“As often as I can. My work keeps me busy most days,” she admitted. John cast a sideways glance at the old woman. She had to be close to a century old. The thought of someone still working at that age was a calamity to him.

“How do you manage?” John asked as the shock of her comment really struck him. “At your age, I mean,” he added.

“Age is just a number, my boy. How old you really are is all in your head and your spirit. I suspect you already know that, though,” she laughed at him. Her laugh, though tinged with the dust of her years, was light and so full of joy. The sound of it made him smile. “You make choices. You can choose to grow old and accept the infirmaries of doing so, or , you can choose to live with joy and love in your heart. Laughter keeps you young, you know,” she said with another hearty chuckle; “but it’s all a choice.”

John turned his attention back to the ducks swimming in the pond. Her words were slowly quieting the other thoughts in his head. He suddenly found himself wanting to hear more from her.

“What if we make the wrong choice?” he asked.

The old lady turned and looked at him from under the wide brim of her leopard print hat. John could feel her eyes searching his face to see whether he was serious with his question.

“Is a choice ever really wrong? If you were given two doors to go through without really knowing what’s on the other side, which door would you choose? You may have an idea of what’s behind each door, but it’s your choice to decide which door to go through. And once you make that choice, how do you know you weren’t supposed to or should not have made that choice? You’re already through the door! How do you know for sure you’re not supposed to be exactly where you are? Let me tell you something. It’s always your choice to be where you are, but in the end, it’s always what you were supposed to choose all along,” she laughed. John nodded in agreement despite the fact that he was still trying to follow the winding trail of wisdom she was imparting.

“I suppose you might be right,” he murmured with sigh.

“Might be? You made a choice to be here at this moment. You made a choice to allow me to be your companion for this short while. You made a choice, John Blackwick,”

John’s head snapped to his left to look at her. The shock on his face spoke volumes.

“Yes, I know your name, child,” she laughed at him. “You made a choice to not forget how it feels to feel. Right now, you are chastising yourself for allowing yourself and your staff to remain in touch with their hearts and all the emotions that arise with that condition. You feel like circumstances are well beyond your control, but how do you know it’s not supposed to be that way right now?”

“Because, everything was so organized before. Everything was so black or white. I was the only one who saw the shades of gray. Araxius constantly chided me for hanging onto my emotions. I’m finally beginning to think he may have been right,” John argued.

“Are you sure about that, John? Araxius made his own choices because he believed in a set order. He chose to be free of his emotions. He couldn’t deal with them. It’s what made him good for the job he did for so long; but times change. Black and white only gives someone two options. Shades of gray offer a bit more information, wouldn’t you agree? Araxius was not a soul that possessed the patience for other’s emotions. He was constantly on his set mission of crossing souls. Whether those souls were ready or not – Araxius didn’t care. Caring is what has always made you different, John.

“The job you do requires some remnants of human nature. The living knew love before they died. They should still know it exists after they die. Even the morons who turn their backs on Divine light and let their hearts be ruled by the darkness that leads them to Hell, they should have one last glimpse of humanity before they face their fate. Don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps,” John admitted.

“Perhaps you are being too hard on yourself,” the old lady suggested. “Araxius is gone for a reason. He left you in charge for a reason. Do yourself a favor and do not try to fill his shoes, my boy. Trust the choices you make. Right or wrong, they are still the choices you are supposed to make.”

John let his companions words swirl in his mind as he took to watching the ducks swimming once more. The day had been long, but he knew it was far from being over. He needed to see to his staff. He wanted to make sure they were all okay. While he had seen each of them already, the panicked thought of another Reaper injured had prevented him from truly assessing their emotional states. It was important to them that they were all right.

“There you are, Beatrice Wiedmer,”

John sat up straight and turned at the sound of the familiar voice behind him. A smile immediately came to his face at the sight of Jean-Pierre striding toward the small bench. Jean-Pierre returned his smile when he recognized who was sitting with his latest assignment.

“Hello, mon cher,” he greeted when he was nearer. “Were you sent to corral my friend here?” There was a lilt of amusement in the beautiful man’s voice. The sound of it lifted John’s spirits.

“Actually, we’ve just met,” John answered. His smile was growing. He found that he couldn’t help it. The day’s events had been tedious and tiresome, yet, the sight of Jean-Pierre seemed to erase them from John’s immediate memory.

“Beatrice,” the Bailey spoke gently to the ancient woman that had been lecturing John. “Are you ready, mon amie?”

The old woman chuckled and shook her head before leveling her eyes on John. He could see the amusement that danced through them as she pondered the Bailey’s inquiry. Finally, she shook her head and laughed again.

“I suppose I am,” she answered. “Though you ask me as if I actually have a choice,” she pointed out as she carefully rose from where she had been sitting. “You’ve been chasing me all day. I’m worn out.”

“My apologies, mon cherie, but this time I am afraid you do not have a choice,” Jean-Pierre replied. “When I hear the voice, you see, I have no choice,” he tried to explain, but Beatrice raised a wrinkled hand and silenced him.

“No need to explain yourself, boy,” she chuckled. “There are some things I actually understand. Give me your arm,” she instructed.

Obediently, the Bailey stepped to her and offered his arm. The ancient woman took it, but made no effort to take a step. Instead, she looked to John once more.

“Remember, John,” she said gently, “the choices you make are the choices you are supposed to make. Everything has a reason and the answers will always make themselves evident in the end - even after you’ve left the living.”

John nodded in acknowledgment. Jean-Pierre looked at John, a perfect eyebrow arched in amused curiosity. John ignored the silent question the Bailey asked with his azure eyes. There would be plenty of time to discuss it later.

“All right,” Beatrice snapped. “Let’s go.”

“Of course,” Jean-Pierre replied.

“I’ll see you soon, John Blackwick,” Beatrice promised as she was led away by the Bailey.

Silent, John turned and looked at the bench where Beatrice had been sitting. The body she had inhabited still sat there. Her chin was resting against her bosom as though she had simply fallen asleep. A gentle breeze blew across the pond as the sun announced its farewell to the day. She had come here to her favorite place for a reason. John wondered if she had made the choice because she knew it was her time or if the choice had been made for her because she carried the message he had needed to hear. Either way, he knew the choice had been made and it had left him feeling relieved.

Quietly, the Grim Reaper turned and walked away from the place where he had met Beatrice Wiedmer. There was work to be done. There were choices to be made.

44: Reminders

Mama Dee stood in the doorway and let loose her breath. She had been holding it ever since she had arrived back to the site where they had finally found Pearl Videaux. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Her mind had been playing the day’s events over and over. She couldn’t help but to feel her heart racing with the idea of returning to the scene of her last bout of helplessness.

The room was empty of souls, now. In the fading light that made its way through the dirty windows, Mama Dee could see that she was very much alone here. The black umbrella Brigit had loaned her to protect herself lay on the one side of the room and Belinda’s coffin shaped purse lay on the other. Mama Dee had returned to retrieve these items for her friends. She had not thought that the slight quest would remind her further of her failure.

Feeling as though she were suddenly so tired, the little old woman crossed first to pick up the black umbrella before turning and slowly making her way to pick up Belinda’s purse. As she lifted it by its thin strap, the bag tilted upside down, spilling its contents across the floor. Mama Dee stopped and looked at the new mess. Her shoulders dropped at the sight. Was there anything bound to go right for her today?

Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees and began to gather the scattered items one at a time. Pens, lipstick, a small bat-shaped keychain with only two keys attached – all landed heavily against the bottom of the coffin-shaped bag when Mama Dee dropped them back inside. The small notebook Belinda wrote in had fallen slightly away from the other items and beyond that lay a long, black portfolio. Inanely, Mama Dee picked up the notebook and reached for the file. She wondered why Belinda would be carrying one around in her purse. Belinda was the records keeper, not a regular Reaper unless she was needed in that capacity. Curious, Mama Dee turned the file over and sighed at the name embossed across the front: Louie George

The old woman felt her heart sink. The day’s events had started because of her concern for the child. In the course of trying to rectify the consequences of her actions, Mama Dee had managed to not only put her friends in the line of fire, but the child as well. Now, the child was sitting back at the office under the spell of Pearl Videaux. Mama Dee could only imagine what his poor little brain was thinking with all the chaos around him. When the enchantment did finally wear off, who would comfort him?

Mama Dee felt a new surge of panic as she imagined the child in the grip of a new fear. Clutching his file tight in her hand, Mama Dee slung the coffin purse over her shoulder and scooped up the black umbrella. She had to return to the office. She had to see to the child. After he was taken care of, Mama Dee would face John and discuss her failures.

45: Moving On

She was in a building, but where? If she outstretched her arm, she could feel the near-invisible walls of the hall she walked along. She was nervous, but she was aware that it was a result of not knowing where she was.

It was definitely that - and the feeling that someone was watching her.

A sliver of light shone at the end of the hall. There was a doorway there. Was it the way out? Cautious, she crept toward it, keeping one hand in constant contact with the wall. Her eyes focused on the sliver of light. Her mind questioned the whereabouts of Mama Dee and the others. Were they all right? Were they still trying to cross the hideous old hag that had been trying to hurt Louie? How had she ended up in this dark hall?

Belinda was finally near enough to the door to hear someone rustling about on the other side. Carefully, she reached out and pushed it open. The sight on the other side caused her to audibly gasp.

He had been pacing back and forth, a cigarette hanging precariously between his lips. When Belinda had gasped, his pacing stopped and his head whipped around to level emerald green eyes on her. Almost immediately, his charming smile appeared. Belinda felt her heart lurch at the sight of it.

“Ah, ye’ve finally come to see me, lass,” he purred as he exhaled smoke through his nose. There was a smug tone to his statement – as if Belinda had kept him waiting all this time. “Have ye missed me? Come give us a kiss,” he instructed as he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it under the toe of his boot before opening his arms to receive her. Belinda remained where she stood, unable to truly believe her eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got yer tongue?” he teased.

“You’re gone,” she finally managed to say. “Brigit told me you were gone forever.”

Seamus Flannery let out a roar of laughter that startled Belinda. She watched as his body shook with hysterics.

“Aye, I’m gone,” Seamus confirmed as his laughter began to subside. “To be sure, but didn’t yer girl mention that I’m not gone so long as ye have a memory of me?” He tapped his temple and smiled menacingly.

“No, she failed to mention that,” Belinda answered. Her surprise was eroding faster and faster. Her anger was riding in behind it, all guns drawn and she had no doubt as to whom they would be pointed at. In fact, she could never have been surer of its target than she was at that moment.

“Ah, I see,” Seamus nodded. “She probably didn’t want ye spendin’ all your time with the fantasies ye had of me.”

“She wouldn’t have had to worry about that,” Belinda snapped back even thought the statement was only a half-truth. Seamus’ eyebrows arched in inquisitive surprise.

“Aye? Ye had no daydreams, then?”

“Oh, yeah, I did,” Belinda admitted. “That was before I found out the truth of a few things. When you took Maggie, I saw a horrible side of you, Seamus. I believed you were a good person, that you were simply misunderstood. But, I was wrong. I was so wrong about you on so many levels about so many things. Thank god I can see that now,” Belinda spewed defiantly.

“Now, lass,” Seamus took a step toward her but Belinda held up a hand to stop him. He froze, setting his emerald green eyes on her hard gaze. It seemed that Seamus Flannery had suddenly figured out how angry the Goth girl truly was. “Surely we can talk this out. I did love ye, ye know. In my own way, I cared.”

“You are such a lying sack of shit. Everything you ever said to me was a lie,” Belinda roared. “You were such a waste of my time. So, save your breath. I’m done with you.”

With that, Belinda spun on her booted heel and made to exit. She was about to reach for the door to slam it behind her when she felt his cold hand grab her wrist. Before she could protest, Seamus had turned her to face him once more. The fury that exploded as he smashed his lips against hers in a greedy, yet unconvincing, kiss was the worst she had felt all day. Instinctively, her knee shot up and crushed his groin before she pushed him away. To her surprise, Seamus actually doubled over with his hands cupped over his manhood. As he dropped to his knees, a tinge of green began to flood his fair face.

For a second, Belinda weighed the idea of kicking him again – just to further relieve her fury. The green tint to his skin was deepening to red as he tried to suck in a breath.

“You’re going to be sorry you did that,” he croaked, casting a cutting glance up at her. Belinda felt herself cracking a smile at the threat.

“No, I won’t,” she purred. Slowly, she bent over so that she was at eye level with him. “You said that so long as I have a memory of you, you’d be around. Well, guess what? This is my last memory of you, Seamus. In fact, I think I’ll keep this moment as my only memory of you. It’s a good one, don’t you think? You, on your knees, holding your balls as you try to keep from puking your guts up,” she goaded with a menacing smile of her own.

“It’s still a memory,” Seamus gasped.

“You’re right,” Belinda agreed as she snapped to attention and looked down her nose at him. “It’s best just to forget you all together.”

“You won’t do that.”

“Watch me,”

“You love me,” he continued between gasps.

“No,” Belinda searched her mind to see if the feeling was still there. Finally, she shook her head. “I really don’t. Sorry. It sucks to be you, doesn’t it?” she teased as she turned and reached for the door again. As she started to pull it closed behind her, one last thought ran through her mind. She stopped and turned to face him once more.

“What?” he asked when he finally noticed she was staring at him.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re an asshole.”

On that note, Belinda finally turned her back on him. It was the last time she would see him. She had said what she needed to say. It was time to go. As if to drive the point further, she slammed the door behind her and smiled as the sound of it reverberated through the dark hall that had led her here to begin with. Seamus Flannery might still exist in someone’s memory, but she’d be damned if it would be hers.

“Now, how the hell do I wake up?” she mumbled as she set off into the darkness.

Unafraid of the dark and feeling surprisingly lighter, Belinda walked along the hall. As before, she kept one hand outstretched to touch the wall. Her pace was no longer cautious as she walked, but she felt that she had not taken this many steps before. Determination kept hold of her as she walked. She had to wake up. She knew this was a dream.

The hall was definitely longer than before. Belinda continued on, however. She had faith that the direction opposite the room that housed Seamus was the right way to go. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. The sound of her black combat boots striking against the wood floor was the only sound she heard. She didn’t care how far she would have to walk. She was walking away from him. For now, that was enough.

Suddenly, there was a break in the wall. The feel of empty air beneath her outstretched fingertips caused Belinda to stop immediately. A thin beam of light hovered on the floor in the empty space. For a second, she stared at it. Was it another door? Quickly, she glanced in the direction she had been headed. Darkness loomed. How far would that direction take her?

With her hand still outstretched, the girl stepped toward the thin light. Her fingers felt the wood of a solid door. She held her breath as she found the knob and slowly turned it. Knowing her eyes would need to re-adjust to the light, Belinda closed them and pulled the door open…

She was not alone.

Slowly, Belinda opened her eyes. The dark form sitting beside her held her focus. As her sight sharpened, the girl realized that she was stretched out on a bed and that it was Brigit’s face she saw. A concerned look lay in the dark woman’s eyes despite the slight smile of amusement that played on her lips. Belinda was awake.

“And she returns,” Brigit announced quietly. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. What happened?”

“You were out for a bit. Bad dream?”

“Why do you ask?” Belinda asked in return as she moved to push herself up from the bed.

“You called me an ‘asshole’,” Brigit laughed lightly as she reached out and assisted her protégé into a sitting position. Belinda suddenly appeared surprised.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she began. “Brigit, I’m sorry. I was talking to…”

“Seamus?” Brigit interrupted. Belinda could only nod. “I see.”

“Where is everyone? Is Mama Dee okay? What about Louie?” Belinda suddenly asked as the memories of the day’s events rush back to her present mind. Brigit raised a hand to calm her.

“Everyone is safe. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember Mama Dee asking me for help and seeing some scary old woman trying to suck Louie’s brains out. After that, I’m fuzzy,” Belinda admitted.

“It’s all right,” Brigit assured her quietly. “I can get the details from Mama and Mr. Nelson later. Are you sure you feel okay?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Because you look like hell; but it’s been a rough day for everyone. Did you happen to find Louie’s file?” Brigit asked as she rose from the chair she had kept vigil in.

“It’s in my purse,” Belinda answered as she scanned the room for the coffin-shaped bag. She became alarmed when she didn’t see it. “Where’s my purse?” Brigit shrugged as she scanned the room as well.

“We’ll find it,” she assured the young woman. “In the meantime, take it easy. John will be back soon. He wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Belinda nodded and leaned her back against the wall, watching as Brigit left the small room. A deep sigh escaped the Goth girl as her mind processed the idea that Brigit had been by her side until she was awake. The idea that Brigit would do so despite the unknowing if she was to be forgiven or considered a friend anymore, spoke volumes to Belinda. Brigit loved her and, come hell or high water, Brigit was her friend.

46: Wasted Time

His eyes watched the flame as if burned steadily on the black wick. He was praying again. This time, he was praying to be forgiven for what he had felt had been the right thing to do. He had tried to erase the final moments Patrick Devlin had spent in his room, the final words Patrick had said to him before the flames had completely overtaken him: I should have known…

There were many things Patrick should have known. Lunacy, Jacob reasoned, had kept Patrick from really looking at what he knew. A dark desire – whatever it had truly been (Jacob realized that he had never been given anything specific) - had kept Patrick from using the knowledge of his friend to know that he would be wasting his time. If Patrick the demon had used that knowledge, he might still exist. He would have been free from his torture a little longer if he had not been so determined to sway Jacob from his faith. The Reapers would have found him eventually. Of that, Jacob was now sure; but Patrick would have bettered his options had he not wasted his time. His ending as it was had taken him to Limbo, that place of eternal nothingness. There would never been an opportunity for redemption there. Yet, Jacob was not sure if Patrick would have found redemption in Hell, either. His heart seemed unrepentant of his mortal deeds.

Jacob shook any further thought of Patrick Devlin from his head. He was walking in circles in his mind trying to figure out the charade his ‘friend’ had put on. Jacob would waste no more time in searching for any shred of truth in the memories he had carried into his death of Patrick. The Reaper had promised a return. Jacob would waste no more time before he faced his fate.

He had read the small square book John Blackwick had left behind. The Grim Reaper was presenting him with a choice and had offered him the time to make it.

Jacob had read the rules. Once he had read the second rule, however, his heart had made the decision. While he could reserve judgment against another soul, he could not fathom denying his own faith. Through his life, his eyes had always been focused on God. His heart had been filled with a fervent love that came only from God. His actions, no matter how mundane, had been guided by God’s will.

Jacob’s only desire – throughout his entire life – was to be rejoined with the light of the universe. His only wish had been to return to God’s embrace. To hide his faith for the sake of another’s sensitivities was beyond his capability.

No, he had decided. He would not waste John Blackwick’s time. He would face his fate – whatever it might be.

47: Thoughts

Brigit leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. It had been a horrendously long day despite the feeling it had passed her by in the blink of an eye. The morning had just broken when she had left the office to reunite Edmund J. Polly with his true love. It had been mid-day when she and the other Reapers had met with the Immortals to begin the process of corralling the dark souls. The sun had begun to set when she and Cahira had finally disposed of Vida Montenegro and then parted ways. Now, Brigit was sure, the darkness of night had settled firmly on the world outside. She had the brief thought that Maggie would be settling into her dreaming soon. Brigit wished she could be with her to hold her while she dreamed.

Yet, there was still so much more to do. She was waiting for John’s return and Mama Dee’s re-appearance. The little old woman had been gone for quite some time, but Brigit was not inclined to go in search of her dear friend just yet. After hearing Pierce Nelson’s account of the day, Brigit knew it was best to give Mama Dee the space she needed to process everything and regain her composure. The old woman would return when she was ready to face everyone. Until then, Brigit knew she would simply just have to wait.

The sound of movement in the room pulled Brigit from her thoughts. She opened her eyes and turned her head in time to see Louie standing beside the chair he had been set in. The enchantments Pearl Videaux had cast on him had worn off and the child was finally moving around on his feet. Brigit looked into his eyes. There seemed to be a question there, but Brigit couldn’t decipher it.

“You okay, buddy?” she asked gently. Slowly, Louie nodded in reply; but he continued to stare at her. “Mama Dee’s not here,” she offered. “She’ll be back soon.”

The child sighed heavily and tore his eyes from the dark woman sitting behind the large desk. He had a question, but he didn’t know how to make her understand. Slowly, he looked around the large room. The pale girl with the bright blue eyes… what had happened to her? Finally, Louie’s sight settled on the wall of bookshelves. It was lined with the black books – the same as the one he remembered seeing on the pale girl’s desk. She had been writing in it. Raising a chubby forefinger, Louie simply pointed at the books and returned his questioning eyes to the woman in black.

“Those are our record books, Louie,” she said calmly. Louie stared at her harder. She had to understand. “Belinda writes them,” the child suddenly nodded.

Brigit suddenly saw the link to this game. He was asking about Belinda. In turn, she raised her own hand and pointed in the direction of the opened door in the corner of the room. Quickly, the boy waddled across the room and peered inside. Brigit could hear Belinda greet the child softly. As if he were asking her permission, Louie looked back at her.

“It’s okay, Louie. You can go see her.”

Louie did not wait another second. He disappeared into the small room where Belinda was still resting. She could hear the one sided conversation drifting from inside. Brigit listened for a few moments before returning to her thoughts. Belinda had found the child’s file, but had dropped her purse somewhere. Once she had spoken to John, Brigit decided, her first act would be to retrieve the coffin-shaped purse. Then, she would return to cross Louie.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of that. John had made it very clear that the Reapers, Incorporated office was no place for a child’s presence. She had assured him that she would handle the situation, but at the moment she had made that assurance, she had been speaking on the fly. She had made no plans and, now, she could think of nothing other than to do exactly what John expected her to do.

Brigit closed her eyes again and leaned her head back against the chair. She realized she had – had no time to really think through out the day. Everything had seemed more of a reflex than an actual thought or decision. Suddenly, it felt as if every thought she should have stopped to think about was now demanding its due attention.

48: Mama Dee

He rounded the corner off Bank Street with the intent of continuing his path straight to the office. The day was done by mortal standards. The sun had set some time ago. John could see the last remaining tinges of lavender on the western horizon when he happened to glance between the buildings of the avenue.

The walk had given him time to think further about the events of the day. It had not provided him with any answers, but it had confirmed his feeling that he needed to make sure everyone was truly all right. Perhaps, John mused, the well-being of his staff would be enough. Lessons had surely been learned today. Would it really be necessary to continue driving the point home?

A flash of color at the opposite end of the sidewalk drew John’s attention from his thoughts. His ice blue eyes focused on the color and John realized that it was the familiar color of Mama Dee’s coral pink dress. Slowly, the Grim Reaper let his gaze settle on the little old woman’s face. A heavy sadness lay on her features that John had not seen before. The sight of it caused his heart to skip a beat in concern.

Mama Dee suddenly stopped in her own approach. John had locked eyes with her. The involuntary clutching of the items in her hands to her chest indicated that she had not been prepared to see him just yet. As John neared her, he could feel her nerves begin to dance.

“Hello, Mama,” John greeted gently, a smile reflecting his tone came easily to his face. “Are you coming or going?”

“I was just coming back. I had to get the girls’ things,” Mama Dee explained. John could hear weariness in woman’s voice. He knew she was not weary, though. Reapers were not capable of weariness.

“It’s been a day, hasn’t it?” the question rode easily on a sigh.

“It sure has,” she agreed. “Almost too much of a day.”

“What happened with your assignment with Miss Buttercup?” John asked. Despite his wanting to make sure Mama Dee was all right, he still had not heard the details of the situation that had put Belinda Yaris on the ‘injured list’.

“It was just a mess, John. Buttercup and I ended up in a neighborhood on the east side. When we got there, we saw Louie heading into a building and my heart just stopped. We followed the boy up not knowing that Pearl Videaux was inside.”

“Pearl Videaux?” John sounded surprised at the mention of a soul’s name he remembered well. “Good god!” the Grim Reaper shook his head in disbelief that he had not paid more attention when he had passed out the assignments at the temple. If he had taken more care, he knew he would have given Mama Dee and Katuri-Buttercup a different assignment all together.

“Well, we got inside and found Pearl Videaux molesting poor little Louie. She was sucking his life force right out through his mouth and ears! It shocked me at first, but then she turned on me. She said she could smell her blood in my veins. We were related, John! I froze. Because Pearl was my great-great granny, I couldn’t cross her without breaking the rule. I felt so helpless.

“That’s when Belinda and Pierce showed up. Belinda tried to save Louie, but Pearl knocked her out in two seconds flat. Then Pierce when berserk and attacked her, but he was just a distraction. That boy couldn’t hit the side of a barn with his fists even if he was standing right beside it. It was Buttercup that finally did Pearl in.”

Mama Dee had barely taken a breath to relate the events of the assignment. John listened intently, still wishing he had given more thought to the delegation of the name Jean-Pierre had provided them.

“I was the Reaper that crossed Pearl Videaux the first time,” he admitted when he realized Mama Dee was no longer talking.

“I figured that part out when she described you.” Mama Dee refrained from relating the exact words Pearl had used.

“Ah, she remembered me then?” John chuckled. Mama Dee shot him a look of non-amusement. “Let me say that I understand the difficulty you faced today, Mama. Pearl Videaux was a tough assignment the first time around. She was a vampire during her life, a powerful and conniving dark arts priestess that maintained her power by the taking of energies from everyone around her. She took too much too often. Her ways did great harm to anyone she came in contact with. That’s part of what sealed her fate. Anyway, I had a devil of a time in crossing her. I was sick for a month after the assignment because she had managed to level one of her spells on me before I had the time to figure out what she was doing. You say she is a relation to you?”

“My great-great granny,” Mama Dee confirmed.

“I see. Well, I’m happy that Pearl’s vile ways were lost by the time you came around. You are a light to the darkness she carried through the world. Don’t be hard on yourself, Mama. You did what you could.”

Mama Dee nodded in acknowledgment of John’s words. He was being kind when he didn’t have to. Knowing that, Mama Dee felt it was the right time to explain her part in everything that had happened to cause the day they had all endured.

“John, I’m so sorry. This whole can of worms has been my fault. I thought,” John watched as she searched for the right words. “I thought I was making the right decision this morning, doing what you or Brigit would have done with the Dangerous Assignments. But, I messed up. I bit off more than I could chew and I want you to know how sorry I am. If you decide to discipline anyone, it should be me,” Mama Dee offered.

John eyed the small woman for a few moments. The truth behind her weariness had revealed itself in her statement. She was not weary. No, Mama Dee was sad and frightened. The emotions ran through her heart and mind in a continuous circle.

“I appreciate that, Mama,” he finally said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I don’t believe, however, that there will be any discipline necessary this time.”

“But, John,” Mama Dee sputtered in surprise, “what happened today could’ve gotten everyone hurt and it’s my fault!” John stared hard into the old woman’s wide eyes.

“What do you think I should do, Mama?”

“I,” Mama Dee stopped and searched her mind. She had been resigned to face whatever decision the Grim Reaper would make. Now, he was asking for her opinion. “I would fire somebody if they had made this big of a mistake.”

“Would you? Is that what you want?” John pressed firmly. “Are you resigning your position as a Reaper? I ask because I have no intention of firing you.”

“Resigning? No,” Mama Dee was caught off guard. “I’m just sayin’ that folks could have been hurt today. You, Brigit, Belinda, your friends – and it all would have been because of me. Belinda did get hurt, but not like Brigit was a few weeks ago. Why are you smiling?” Mama Dee stopped her rant at the sight of John’s expression.

“I hear your reasons, Mama, but I think you’ve missed the bigger picture. Your ‘can of worms’ – as you put it – has been a lesson for us all. While there was a risk associated with the lesson, I am happy to say that we made it through. Miss Yaris will recover from her injury. Brigit has recovered and will most likely never leave a task uncompleted and you, dear Mama, are aware of your limitations for now. You have a kind and brave heart, but it is not the same as mine or Brigit’s. I appreciate that about you. It’s what makes you – you.”

Mama Dee let John’s explanation wrap around her. Although he would never make such a gesture physically, his words had just given her the biggest hug she needed at this moment. Finally, she gave into the verbal hug and sighed a final breath to let it all go.

“Shall we go check on the others?” John asked.

He was still smiling. He knew he had managed what he had set out to do. Mama Dee had been comforted.

“Might as well,” she answered as he reached to open the door to their headquarters. “But I would have fired me,” she commented as he stepped back to let her enter ahead of him.

“Of course you would have, Mama. Of course you would,” John laughed before following in her wake.

49: The Request

The office had resumed its calm energy, John noticed as he followed Mama Dee along the hallway toward the room where he shared the responsibility of the firm with Brigit. The feeling was a relief to him. It was a sign that things may have returned to normal.

“Mr. Blackwick?”

John stopped at the sound of his name. He turned casually to find Pierce Nelson standing just outside the small office he occupied with Belinda. The nervous expression on the former accountant’s face caused John to cease the smile he had felt coming to his face.

“Mr. Nelson, what may I do for you?” John asked cautiously.

“I was hoping,” Pierce swallowed hard, “that I might have a word with you?”

John eyed the other man for a second. He was obviously nervous and that was making John nervous. Quickly, John glanced over his shoulder toward the main office. He could hear the voices of Mama Dee and Brigit in conversation. Apologies were flying right and left from within the room. Suddenly, John was grateful for the distraction.

“Of course, Mr. Nelson,” John granted. He motioned for the man to return to the small office as he began to walk toward it. Quickly, Pierce ducked back inside. “Are you all right from the day’s events?”

“Um, yes,” Pierce began. “I think so.”

“What happened?”

Pierce searched for a good starting point in the tale even though he really wanted to get to the point of this impromptu meeting with the Grim Reaper. After all, he had given everything on his mind a lot of thought since returning to the office. What he wanted was to ask John Blackwick for was for the best. Of that, Pierce was sure; but now, he was being asked to tell a story.

Finally, he launched into the tale from the beginning where he had lost sight of the little boy and how that had led them out of the office to begin with. He continued the narrative quickly, skipping over the curse laden frustration Belinda had exhibited and jumping to the part when they had found Mama Dee and the new Reaper facing Pearl Videaux. Mama Dee had been unable to cross the old woman because she was relation and then the hag had tried to suck Louie’s brains out. At that point, Belinda had stepped in and gotten hurt. Then, Pierce himself had lost all control and beaten the old hag with a fury he had never known he could possess only to open his eyes and find that the new Reaper had ripped the old woman’s black heart out of her chest and sent her to Limbo…

John sat staring at the other man in silence as his mind tried to flesh out the images of the rapidly told tale. Although he had just heard Mama Dee’s version of the events, John found it interesting that a different point of view provided differed details. As Pierce had spoken, John occupied the wooden chair where Belinda usually sat. The firmness of it had kept him grounded through the whirlwind the records keeper related. He wondered briefly if sitting down would have helped the assistant record’s keeper talk any slower.

“So, Miss Buttercup actually ripped the old woman’s heart right out of her chest?” John finally asked. Pierce only nodded. “Interesting… very interesting…” John mused out loud as he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, what did you want to see me about before I waylaid your thoughts?”

“Well, sir, ahem, I’d like to request a transfer to another office,” Pierce stated firmly.

John found himself staring hard at the other man again. Something was missing. Had the day rattled him so much that he would make such a drastic request? Under his studious gaze, John watched Pierce become increasingly more nervous.

“May I ask ‘why’?”

Pierce swallowed hard again, dropping his eyes to the floor. He would hide the truth at the very root if he could.

“It’s personal, sir,” he mumbled. “If there’s no position open in another office, I understand; but I don’t think I could stand to be here in this office much longer.”

“It’s not that there’s no position available,” John replied, “but I would prefer an honest reason as to why you would ask for such a thing. Is there something going on in this office that I am not aware of? Are you at odds with one of the staff?”

“You could say that,” Pierce insinuated with a heavy sigh.

“Well? Who is it? Is it Miss Yaris?” John persisted. He felt his patience starting to fray. Today had been long and tedious. He didn’t feel the energy to play this game of truth seeking with Pierce Nelson. “Just tell me, man, and you’ll have your answer.”

The command must have come out harder than John had intended. He saw the other man flinch as if he had been slapped.

“It is Miss Yaris,” Pierce finally admitted. “I think I’m in love with her.”

It was John’s turn to flinch. The whole fiasco of Belinda’s unwitting part in Seamus Flannery’s scheme of revenge against Brigit came rushing back to his mind. While Belinda would never have caused intentional harm to anyone, her infatuation with the rogue Irishman had led to more harm than good and left John pondering the issue of workplace romances. He was well aware that his own budding romance would be subject to cessation if he decreed a ban. He was the example to be followed, after all.

“And how does Miss Yaris feel toward you?” John asked cautiously. Pierce seemed to shrink before him.

“She’s not aware of how I feel, and honestly, I don’t think she would ever consider the possibility of feeling the same way,” Pierce groaned. “That’s why I think it would be best if I transferred out.”

John suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over him. Pierce’s request was enabling him time to put off the decision regarding office romance – for now…

“I see,” John breathed. “Yes, I can see your reasoning now.” He nodded as if he were truly envisioning the implications of Pierce being forced to remain in the same room with the object of his unrequited love.

“So, do you have a position for me elsewhere?” Pierce asked hesitantly.

“I do,” John answered cheerfully. “How’s your Russian?” Pierce looked confused by the question and John waved it away before standing. “If you can wait until tomorrow, you may have your transfer, Mr. Nelson. There are some other things I must see to first.”

“Oh! Of course! Whatever, you need! Thank you, Mr. Blackwick,” Pierce gushed.

“We’ll see how much you thank me when you see where you’re going,” John mused aloud. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow you will begin a whole new adventure.”

Pierce watched as John exited the office. Relief flooded him as he sank into the chair at his assigned workspace. He had hoped that Belinda would have noticed something about him; but in the days since Seamus Flannery’s demise, that hope had continued to fade despite his admiration for her. The request for a transfer had been his only option to spare them both the torture. Yes, it was the only option, he had decided. He could admire from far, far away. Perhaps, with time, even that would fade.

50: Crossing Louie

Mama Dee eyed Brigit in silence from where she sat. The large mahogany desk was between them. Brigit was serious as she returned Mama Dee’s gaze. The old woman wondered how long her dear friend had thought about how she was going to deliver the news.

It had been a short and to the point delivery – as if Brigit were making the announcement to another Reaper instead of the old woman she had been friends with before her death. Mama Dee understood that Brigit had a job to do, but, she had never thought that Brigit would – or could – be so distant at such a moment as this.

“I’m sorry, Mama, but Louie can not stay with us,” Brigit apologized, allowing some sense of feeling to creep into her voice. Her dark eyes, however, still hid any truth to what she was feeling.

“I understand that,” Mama Dee replied. “After this afternoon, I know he’d need watching and we – I – can’t afford to be distracted like that.”

Mama Dee looked away for half a second. She had not given any thought to actually keeping the child despite her concern for his welfare. When she had been alive, she would have thought differently. She would have taken Louie in. She would have given him the love and attention he had never really known during his own short life. Things were different on this side of the fence, though. The events of today proved to Mama Dee that her concern for a child’s welfare needed to be kept in check.

“Do you want to be here when I do it?” Brigit asked gently. Mama Dee looked back to her friend.

“Of course I do,” she answered. “I want to say good-bye. He’ll need to know it’s what he’s supposed to do.”

“Very well,” Brigit sighed. The dark woman eyed her friend for another second longer. She could see that the emotions that had swarmed around Mama Dee earlier were quieting down. The old woman was not questioning what had to be done. “I’ll get Louie,” Brigit said as she pushed herself back from the desk and stood. Mama Dee only nodded in acknowledgment.

Brigit entered the small room where Belinda was resting. In the dim light, she could see the child sitting beside the young woman on the edge of the bed. They were holding hands, a silent conversation passing between them. The Assistant Reaper forced an apologetic smile to her face as she stopped just inside the door.

“Louie,” she addressed the child as both their sights settled on her. “It’s time to go, little man.”

“What?” Belinda sounded surprised. Brigit looked to her protégé. She had expected surprise from Mama Dee – not Belinda. “Where’s he going?”

“Louie can’t stay with us, Belinda. You know that,” Brigit answered calmly. “It’s time for him to cross.”

Belinda stared at her mentor in silence. She had known Louie couldn’t stay. Brigit had told her so before they had left the office to deal with the dark souls that had escaped Hell. The instruction to find the child’s file had backed up that decision. Belinda had found the file and now the time had come to complete the assignment. Involuntarily, her hand tightened on the child’s. Finally, the girl nodded and stood up, pulling the child up with her.

“C’mon, Louie,” she sighed heavily. “It’s time for you to go home.”

Immediately, Louie’s eyes widened in fear. He couldn’t go home. Mama Dee had saved him from that place, taken him far away from the memory of dying and the daily hauntings of Uncle Fin. How could they send him back? He wouldn’t go. He just wouldn’t!

The child ripped his hand free from the pale girl’s grasp and shot out of the room like a bolt of lightening. The dark woman had reached out to grab him as he had run past, but he was too fast. Her fingers barely brushed his shoulder as he barreled into the room where he had heard Mama Dee’s voice only a few minutes before. His frightened eyes barely scanned the room before they landed on the old woman. Immediately, he changed direction and flew into her arms. Mama Dee would protect him. Mama Dee would let him stay. She loved him. Of that, Louie was sure.

The woman sighed heavily as she held the roly-poly child against her chest. She could feel his fear running through him as he held onto her. In another life, she would have reacted to the emotion this child was feeling. In another life, she would have become a ferocious mother bear that bristled her hackles and bared her teeth to anyone that would have meant him harm. In another life, she would have let her heart fully control the situation; but that was then…

“Louie,” Mama Dee cooed as she began to rock the child on her lap. “There ain’t nothin’ to be scared of,” she assured him. Her voice was weary. The control of her dialect had slipped. For the first time, Mama Dee heard the voices of her mother and her mother’s mother. They were the voices of the women who had loved her and comforted her when she had been a small child, afraid of the unknown.

The child heard it as well. Slowly, he unburied his face from her neck and looked up at her.

“Where you are going is a new home, sweetheart,” Mama Dee explained gently. “It’s a place where you will be loved and can have fun. You’ll find new friends that you can laugh and sing with. There’s a lady there. Her name is Mary. She sings just like you do,” Mama Dee continued. “I know you will like her. She’s a wonderful lady.”

A movement at the door drew both their attentions to it. John had returned and was watching the scene in silence.

“That’s my friend, Mr. Blackwick. He knows Miss Mary. He can tell you that she’s a wonderful lady to know. He’s heard her sing, haven’t you, Mr. Blackwick?”

John was caught off guard that Mama Dee would pull him into the conversation. Quickly, he glanced at Brigit and Belinda where they stood to his left. They were watching on in silence. Had they been recruited to help as well? Finally, John cleared his throated and smiled at the chubby child sitting on Mama Dee’s lap.

“It’s true,” he answered. “Mary has a beautiful voice.”

The child barely looked convinced as he returned his gaze to the old woman he had sought protection from. The question he asked in that gaze pushed hard against Mama Dee’s heart.

“Yes, baby, you have to go. It’s not that we all don’t love you,” she said quietly. “It’s just that we can’t take good care of you. We have work to do here. Miss Mary, she can take such good care of you. She will make sure you are always happy,” Mama Dee promised. “But you understand that we do love you, right?”

Slowly, Louie looked at each of their faces. They were looking back at him, smiling and glowing. Yes, he could see that they were all good people. None of them would ever have hurt him or let any harm come to him. None of them would send him away if they didn’t have to. Finally, he looked back to Mama Dee and nodded. Yes, he knew she was telling the truth.

“All right, then,” Mama Dee sighed as she pulled the boy close and hugged him tightly. “Let’s meet Miss Mary,” she said out loud.

As if it were her cue, Brigit stepped to the desk and picked up the child’s portfolio from where Mama Dee had placed it upon her return. She then stepped to the middle of the room and held out her hand to Louie. Slowly, he slid from Mama Dee’s lap and waited for the old woman to stand. Once she had smoothed the wrinkles from the lap of her pink dress, he took her hand and reached out to the tall woman with his other. The feel of his plump hand taking hers sent a measure of relief through Brigit. She exchanged a quick glance with Mama Dee before opening the file.

The door appeared to their left. Louie’s sight focused on it, but his grip on the women’s hands never tightened. He was not afraid. They had promised him good things. He knew in his heart that they would never lie to him.

A sound suddenly filled his mind, setting his heart to race. From the other side, he could hear it. He knew that song! He knew those words!

Mama Dee reached out and opened the door as the child began to tremble with excitement. The sound became louder as the door opened wider. From the other side, Mary – the children’s guardian – emerged. She was singing the song Louie had sung for so long. The smile on her face displayed the bliss in her heart with each note that rolled across her lips.

Louie watched the new woman in awe. She knew his song – every word of it. She would know the meaning of those words. Her voice was perfect and full of love. His tiny heart hammered with his excitement as she reached the final note.

When Mary looked down at him and smiled, Louie noticed her eyes were a color he had never seen before. They were gentle and kind. When she extended her hand to him, Louie immediately took it. The warmth he felt added more truth to everything Mama Dee had promised him.

“Louie,”

The boy looked up at Mama Dee. She was smiling at him.

“May you find eternal peace, baby.”

51: Intermission

Mama Dee closed the door that had seen Louie to his final home and a strange silence filled the room around them. It was not comfortable, yet, it was not uncomfortable either. Belinda made the quiet excuse of being tired and slipped back into the small room where she had been resting. Mama Dee said nothing as she turned and left the office. John and Brigit were lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the sound they knew was coming next. When the soft closing of the door to Mama Dee’s office was finally heard, the Grim Reaper and his assistant looked up at one another.

“Back to work, I guess,” Brigit said quietly as she moved to resume the seat behind the desk.

“No,” John interrupted. He leaned against the wall behind him and folded his arms across his chest. “I think we can all afford the rest of the evening off.” Brigit eyed him carefully. She had been expecting a re-hashing of the day, a lecture on how her actions had set everything into motion. “It’s been a long day,” John said quietly.

“Jean-Pierre will be in soon with his day’s work,” Brigit pointed out. “The files will need to be sorted and assigned.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. John smiled slightly at the question.

“Yes,” he replied. “While I would normally prefer that we continue to be punctual with our business, there will always be moments when I am in agreement to make exceptions. Death is a constant occurrence. Sometimes, people wait their whole lives for it to finally arrive. A little more time to await their eternal fates won’t kill them, don’t you agree?”

Brigit tried not to laugh at the unintentional pun John had issued. She did, however, allow a smile and a nod to show her agreement.

“In that case,” she finally said, “I think I’ll go have a cup of coffee with Giuseppe and, then, head home. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

John thought about her question for a few seconds before unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into deep his trouser pockets. He knew his plans. They had made themselves for him.

“I need to follow up on a potential recruit first thing and then I’ll be taking Mr. Nelson to the Russian office and helping him settle in there. I think that will take up most of my day.”

“Pierce is leaving?” Brigit couldn’t mask her surprise.

“He is. He requested a transfer just a few minutes ago.” A look of concern passed through Brigit’s dark eyes. John caught the tone of her concern and shook his head. “It’s more to do with matters of the heart, I believe,” he said with a slight nod toward the small room that contained Belinda Yaris.

“Oh, I see,” Brigit replied.

“I thought you would. Considering the state of emotions around the office lately, I think he is acting wisely. I think we all need a chance to calm down.”

Brigit looked at John as he spoke. The allowance of the Reapers to maintain the connection with their emotions had been presented as a choice. Brigit wondered momentarily if John might be regretting that offer. Surely, it would make everything easier if he simply issued the edict that emotions were no longer allowed. As if he heard her thought, John shook his head and smiled.

“It will always be a choice, Brigit. Now, go have your coffee and go home. Maggie will miss you if you dilly-dally here much longer.”

With that, Brigit nodded and left the office. She hoped John would find some quiet calm of his own tonight. He deserved it as much as the rest of them – if not more…

52: The Line

Madam Zapatos circled the rim of the glass inanely. Her eyes were focused on the life that passed through the square outside the window of the ghostly tavern, yet, her thoughts were focused elsewhere. It had been this way throughout the day and most of the night. It couldn’t be shut out.

She had been intrigued by the character of Brigit Malone. She had been impressed with the smaller woman’s skill and unflinching bravery during confrontation. Admittedly, she had also been somewhat amused by the senior assistant’s wit under pressure. If she had to admit something else, Madam Zapatos would have to admit that she had felt an attraction for the first time in a very long time. Brigit Malone possessed all the qualities the Gypsy woman admired in another woman, including that of physical beauty.

The thoughtful woman sighed heavily. John Blackwick had been evasive in answering questions regarding his first assistant. Madam Zapatos had struggled to maintain a mask of calm despite her irritation with the Grim Reaper’s vague replies. Had he perceived the basis of her questioning?

I should let it go, she told herself as she ceased circling the rim of the glass that held the wine that had once made the tavern famous.

The energy of her thoughts continued to churn through her whole being. She had felt this way only once before. She had been captivated once and, ultimately, it had been her undoing. She had not asked questions then. She had simply followed her heart. There had been an arrogant belief present that no harm would come from the affair. There was adventure to be found around every bend of the road her caravan had traveled. There were always pleasures to be found when the need arose. Love was trivial and messy – an emotion not worth the Gypsy woman’s time. Then, that fateful winter had fallen and she had found her heart chasing the wrong person…

The assistant Reaper looked around the buzzing main room of the tavern. The patrons here were ghosts with nothing better to do than drink the spectral wine and socialize. Her staff had been given their assignments as soon as John Blackwick had left. She had hoped it was enough to keep them away longer than usual. She needed the time to compose herself. The intention of that, coupled with the need to actually do some work, had been her initial plan. That intention, however, had been interrupted by the persistent thoughts of Brigit Malone.

John Blackwick had told her nothing. Her curiosity demanded satisfaction. Her attraction insisted on action. There was a choice to be made. Madam Zapatos suddenly wondered if she had the amount of courage it would take to quiet all these feelings. Courage, or no, she needed answers.

Quietly, the Gypsy rose from the small table where she conducted the firm’s business. No one seemed to notice as she strode across the tavern and out into the night air of the square. No one saw her as she entered the portal.

Brigit closed her eyes and smiled. The aroma of the strong coffee Giuseppe brewed wafted to her nose on the phantom wisps of steam that rose from its surface. Her hands were locked around the body of the mug as she inhaled deeply, letting the day’s length slowly peel away from her mind while she focused on the ghostly warmth between her palms. Giuseppe was watching her from across the counter. She could feel the appreciative smile on his face as she went through the ritual of adoring his creation. Brigit wondered how hard the big Italian would laugh if he knew just how deep her love of coffee actually was. If coffee had been a god, she would have worshipped it.

It was relatively quiet in the café this evening. That was normal, though. The patrons of the establishment kept their conversational tones low as they passed the time watching life go by outside the window of the ghost café.

When she had entered the café, she had paused only a second to glance at the booth Edmund J. Polly had occupied for so long. She had reunited him with his true love, Liliana, just that morning and crossed them both to the next level of their forever. When she had looked at the booth, she realized that this morning was now so far away. Brigit suddenly missed the silent acknowledgement of her presence from the old man’s sad blue eyes; but the knowledge that he had found his happiness again eased her missing.

The first sip of the brew was perfect against her tongue. The sweetness of the sugar and the heaviness of the cream added to the earthy undertones of the actual coffee elicited a sigh of relief. The warmth that spread through her pushed any lingering stress away until she thought of nothing else but the prospect of finally going home to Maggie.

Brigit opened her eyes to engage Giuseppe in conversation, but the words faltered at the sight of his face. His dark eyes were focused on the room behind her. His square jaw was set firmly as if he were suddenly facing a stranger he knew he should be wary of.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

“Gypsy,”

The answer had come out in a menacing growl.

She needed no further explanation as she watched the small muscles of the big man’s jaw flex with the grinding of his teeth. His focus never left the newcomer.

“I’ll handle it,” Brigit assured him before turning to face the woman that was crossing the room. Despite her efforts, Brigit couldn’t ignore the suspicion that she should keep her guard up. “Madam Zapatos,” she greeted coolly. “What are you doing here?”

The tall woman forced an awkward smile to her sharp face as she stopped two paces in front of Brigit. She had entered the room determined to find out more about the American Assistant. Yet, as she stood facing such a cool reception, Madam Zapatos felt her determination beginning to wane.

“I was hoping I might speak with you,” the tall woman offered.

“Regarding what? Territorial Rules? I think we discussed all we really needed to this morning,” Brigit chuckled before taking a sip from the coffee cup in her hand.

“About that,” Madam Zapatos moved to the empty barstool next to Brigit, but paused. Brigit motioned for the woman to sit as she turned and sat her cup back on the counter. “I feel that I must apologize once more for my behavior. It was rude and unnecessary and I’m sorry,” the woman offered quietly.

“I appreciate that. Apology accepted,” Brigit replied. From the corner of her eye, she could see Giuseppe hovering. His expression had not changed. “Now, why are you really here?”

Madam Zapatos flinched at the question. She had not expected the other woman to be so intuitive. The proud woman suddenly felt shy under the dark gaze of the woman that had distracted her thoughts all day. Quickly, she glanced at the big man across the counter. His expression as he stared hard at her kept her on edge.

“I was hoping that perhaps we could become better acquainted,” she admitted.

“Ah, I see,” Brigit sighed.

She had caught the tone of suggestion behind the woman’s words. The subconscious leaning toward her as Madam Zapatos had returned her eyes to meet Brigit’s added the visual push to that tone. Desperately, Brigit fought the urge to laugh. The woman beside her was carrying a hope. There was no need to be rude.

“I’m very sorry to disappoint you, Madam Zapatos; but I’m not available for that particular kind of acquaintance. You’re a Reaper, I’m a Reaper – that’s all we need to know about one another. I’m sorry.”

It took a few seconds for Brigit’s words to fully sink in. At first, Madam Zapatos felt a burst of anger rise up at the other woman’s rejection. No one had ever turned her down before. Madam Zapatos had always been the one to close the door in someone’s face. Not the other way around. Finally, the Gypsy woman reminded herself that the woman who was rejecting her so quickly was, in fact, her superior. There were some lines Madam Zapatos suspected she should not cross, and this – as it turned out – was one of them.

“I understand,” she finally managed to say. Brigit could hear the forced control in the other woman’s voice. “I have made a mistake. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brigit shrugged. “These things happen. No big deal.”

Madam Zapatos rose from her barstool and stepped away from Brigit. Her back was straight as a board as she fought hard to control her anger.

“You can be assured it is a mistake that will not happen again,” she snapped over her shoulder.

Brigit watched over her shoulder as the Spanish Reaper strode angrily out of the café. The pace of her stride betrayed her wounded hopes. Brigit wondered momentarily whether she should have indulged the other woman instead of shutting her down so quickly. It was too late now. Brigit had drawn the line and, by the assurance Madam Zapatos had snapped at her, it was a line that would not be broached anytime in the near future.

“You did the right thing.”

Brigit glanced up at Giuseppe in surprise.

“She meant no harm,” Brigit replied. “These things happen. She’s lonely, I’m sure.”

“Even so, you did the right thing. Her kind can not be trusted.”

“Her ‘kind’?” Brigit was further surprised by the remark. “What kind is that?”

“Gypsy,” Giuseppe spat back.

53: Jacob’s Choice

John stepped from the portal to the sidewalk and sighed. He had come, as he had promised, back to Bensonhurst to receive Jacob Lior’s answer to his offer. Despite his wish otherwise, John had the intuition that Jacob would reject the offer he had given the afternoon before. After locating and reading Jacob’s file more thoroughly – John was positive a big, fat ‘no’ would be delivered.

Turning his ice blue eyes to the east, the Grim Reaper could see the glow worm of dawn beginning to part the darkness. A new day was beginning. For one second, John Blackwick was grateful that he could consciously witness such a passage of time. So many souls took such small moments for granted. He could remember doing so when he had been alive. Since his death, he had basked in the glory of witnessing a new day’s birth as often as he could.

Knowing that his duties for the day could not be put off, John sighed again before crossing the street. The building that contained Jacob Lior’s spirit was not hidden from his sight this time. Easily, he entered it and climbed the stairs to Jacob’s apartment.

Jacob was sitting at the small table once more. His dark eyes were focused on the tiny dancing flame that burned atop the candle that did not melt. Not wishing to startle the meditating man, John paused in the opened doorway and knocked softly. Slowly, the dark eyes that had been so intently focused on the candle’s flame turned and settled on him.

“You’ve returned,” Jacob greeted calmly as John stepped further into the small room.

“I have, as promised,” John smiled faintly. “Were you able to come to a decision regarding my offer to join us?”

John watched as the other man looked away to the small book he had been loaned. Slowly, he picked it up and extended it to the Grim Reaper without rising from his chair.

“I have read your rules,” Jacob said softly. “I can not accept your offer with a clear heart.”

John reached out and took the book being offered. He knew exactly why Jacob was rejecting the job. He had known it all along.

“I understand,” John said as he tucked the book back to its place in his jacket pocket. The comment brought Jacob’s gaze to his face once more.

“Do you?”

“I do,” John confirmed. “I had the sense yesterday after meeting you that you would turn down the job. Your faith is admirable, sir, and I am in no position to talk you out of what you believe and feel to be the right thing to do.”

“I wish my friend, Patrick, would have thought as clearly as you have spoken,” Jacob sighed. “Perhaps it would have saved him.”

“You mean perhaps it would have saved you,” John corrected. “If he had recognized the strength of your faith, he would not have come here and suffered a new fate. You would not have been the spark of the Divine to usher in that fate; but the unfortunate truth of it all is that it did happen and it’s done now. It brings to mind the question of whether any of us really know the will of the Divine.”

Jacob Lior stared hard at the young man standing easily in the middle of the small room. His face did not bear the lines of age that would have visibly backed the wisdom that had just been uttered. His eyes, though, provided the view to a very enlightened soul. Slowly, Jacob nodded in agreement to John’s explanation.

“I suppose it is time to go, then,” Jacob offered as he rose from his chair.

“If you’re ready,” John agreed.

“I am.”

With that, John reached into the breast pocket of his coat and withdrew the long, black file that was Jacob Lior’s portfolio. Immediately, the door to Jacob’s fate appeared to his left. Jacob did not appear startled by its appearance. Silently, he turned to face it as John reached for the handle.

“Jacob Lior,” John addressed the waiting man, “may you find eternal peace.”

“Thank you,” Jacob whispered as John pulled the door open.

A slight gasp escaped Jacob Lior as he viewed the scene on the other side. While he had spent his entire life imagining what Heaven might look like, he had never imagined it to be like this. With his heart racing in pure joy, Jacob took his first steps into bliss…

John closed the door softly and turned to face the candle sitting on the table. As he watched the flame dance, he was not surprised to see it suddenly vanish. All that remained was the blackened wick. The spirit had been rejoined with the light of the Divine. There was no longer a need for the reminder of home.

Tucking the portfolio back into his breast pocket, John turned and exited the small room. He was done with this assignment. It was time to return to Russia.

54: Home

Brigit had stayed at the café long enough to enjoy a second cup of coffee before deciding to make her way home. Giuseppe had offered no further conversation after Madam Zapatos’ exit. Brigit imagined the Spanish Reaper’s appearance had triggered a memory in the café’s owner that was best not talked about for now.

As she entered the apartment where she had shared her life with Maggie, she paused for a moment. The space was quiet except for the steady tick-tock of the clock echoing from the kitchen. A peaceful feeling surrounded her as she keened her ears to the silence. Everything here was as it should be.

Silent, the dark woman walked the length of the hall to the bedroom. She listened hard for the gentle breathing of her lover as she slept. When she finally crossed the threshold of the room, Brigit heard what she wanted. A smile immediately spread across her face without invitation. The slow and gentle inhale of air told her that Maggie was deep within her slumber.

Cautiously, she walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at its occupant. The clock on the bedside table provided enough light that she could make out the curve of Maggie’s cheek. She wanted to reach out and caress it, but resisted the urge by shoving her hands under her armpits. Since her return from the mountain, Maggie had become hyper-sensitive to the unseen hand that touched her so lovingly. Brigit had no wish to disturb Maggie now. Especially when she slept so deeply. By the time listed on the clock, Maggie would be awake soon enough…

As Brigit watched her partner through the darkness, she gave one last thought to the day. It had been wild, but, all had turned out well. Mama Dee, Belinda and the others had done their part as a team and survived. Brigit wished there had been a way to shelter them from the chaos, but she knew there was no way it could have been avoided except to make a different choice from the onset of her day. If she had made a better decision at that moment, she was sure Mama Dee would not have faced the predicament she had and set off the events that had pushed them all so strenuously.

Yet, the choice had been made and everything had happened. None of it could be undone, and in the end, everything had finally been set right. That was all that could have been hoped for. That was all that mattered.

When she felt the day’s events finally leaving her present thought, Brigit sighed in relief. She was home now. Whatever had happened outside these walls had no place within them. She was grateful for that. It gave her the time to spend freely with Maggie. It allowed her to keep her promise during a time when she felt Maggie was most vulnerable.

This is how it should be, Brigit mused. I promised to watch over you. I will keep that promise.

Her gaze flickered to the clock on the bedside table once more and took note of the time reported on its face in bright red numbers. There was still another hour to go before Maggie would be dragged from her sleep. Brigit knew that hour would pass quickly, but a part of her wished it wouldn’t. This would be all the time she would have with Maggie for today and during every day until the end of Maggie’s life. She wanted every second that was offered by the darkness of night. There was no way to know when things would change again.

“Until they do, I’ll be patient,” Brigit whispered softly as she finally reached out and gently ran a finger along the soft curve of her lover’s cheek. “I’ll be here. I promise you that.”

The Author

B.L. Newport was born with a strong belief and sensitivity in the supernatural side of life. After growing up in the small Northwest Arkansas town of Siloam Springs, she has lived in New York City and Las Vegas, Nevada. During these journeys, B.L. has discovered the joys of hard work, good friends and good coffee. She resides in Denver, Colorado with her soulmate, Rochelle.