Souls of the Reaper

by Markie Madden

  It never occurred to her to get a pet as a way to fulfill the desire to have something to nurture. After her family’s slaughter in Greece in the 17th century, she wandered the countryside, alone and plagued by guilt and nightmares. When she rejoined society several decades later, she returned with a different name and on the other side of the country. Before Immortals were known and accepted in society, albeit conditionally, she moved around every few years, always staying on the move to avoid detection by the humans she was living among. Eventually, she went to the United States, and made her home there.

  Lacey pulled into the shelter parking lot and got out of her car. It startled her to hear her name being called, as Paul couldn’t know she was already there unless he was hanging out in the parking lot. When she looked, she saw one of the technicians who worked for the lab contracted by the police department.

  “Hey, Linus, what are you doing here?”

  “Hello there, Lacey. When are you going out with me?” He always asked the same question.

  She smiled. “When you don’t smell as appetizing.” It was the same answer she always gave. Linus was like a friend to Lacey, one of the few (human or Immortal) friends that she allowed close to her. One evening after a particularly nasty court case, Lacey and Linus went for drinks, and she told him the story of her past.

  He laughed. “What are you doing here?”

  “No, I asked first.”

  “Okay, well, sometimes I come over here after work and volunteer. You know, feed the animals, clean out the cages, groom them. The staff here is great, but they’re only human, and the numbers of animals in the shelter keeps going up. Volunteers help elevate the level of care the animals can get.”

  “Wow, I had no idea you did that. Anyway, I’m here to pick up a dog. I’m adopting one.”

  “You?” He sounded surprised.

  Lacey knew what he was thinking. When Immortals were finally recognized by human society, and she started working openly with them, she joined the police department. Dr. Dilorenzo would now tell her that it was her way of seeking justice for those she lost so long ago. But when she first thought about getting a pet, she was a beat cop with the busy Dallas Police. She always felt that it wouldn’t be fair to bring an animal into her home and then leave it alone for long stretches of time.

  “Well, you know, I’ve thought about it before. But I was never at home. A coworker once recommended a cat, saying they were more independent than dogs, but I’m not much of a cat person. Honestly, they’re kind of creepy.” She told him about the dog fighting call. “Seeing the dogs made me think about it again, so I thought maybe it was time to adopt.” Reaching out to Paul Kelso at the SPCA was an impulse on her part. And once she mentioned it to Paul, and saw how infectious his excitement was at her desire to adopt one of the hard-to-place dogs, she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

  “Wow, Lacey, that’s great. I’m happy for you. You need someone around you in that great big home of yours. Even if it’s an animal rather than a person. This will be a great thing for you.”

  “Gosh, I almost called Paul back and said never mind. But I couldn’t do it. I’m excited about it now.”

  “Do you know anything about dogs?” Linus asked.

  “You feed it, you take it outside.” What more could there be?

  “Oh, you’re in for it, I can see it now! But please, don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Like a straight jacket.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “Well, I’ve already made arrangements to have my backyard fenced. And had a dog door installed. Whatever else there is, I’ll learn along the way.”

  She contacted Paul before she left the station, so she knew he would be staying late to wait for her. The muffled sounds of barking animals becoming a roar to her sensitive ears as they walked through the door. A petite, young blonde greeted her.

  “Welcome to the SPCA. Can I help you?”

  Lacey waved at Linus as he made his way to the back, and then introduced herself. “Yes, I’m supposed to be meeting Paul Kelso. Will you tell him I’m here?”

  “Sure thing.” The young woman picked up the phone and dialed. “Paul, there’s a Ms. Anderson here to see you.” She listened for a moment. “Okay, great.” The woman looked at Lacey. “He’ll be right up.”

  “Thank you.” Lacey turned her attention to the waiting room. The walls were papered with pet care advice posters, dry erase boards with information on the pets of the day, and cork boards filled with advertising and lost pet fliers. She turned her attention to all the ads about flea and tick medication, grooming, and nail clipping when she heard a door behind her open and close.

  “Hi, Lacey,” he said, seeming pleased to see her.

  “Hey, Paul. How’s my favorite Angel doing?”

  “Well, you know, it’s another day, another few animals saved.”

  “You guys do great work here.” She followed him as he walked back toward the sound of barking dogs. “I didn’t want to say anything about it.” She was embarrassed. “But, I donate quite a bit to the SPCA every year.”

  She saw in his face the moment he made the connection. “Ah, the Anderson Foundation? Yes, I should have made the connection. Be careful, you have more of a soft spot than most people think. Next thing you know, the criminals will be laughing at you!”

  Lacey laughed with him. “Oh, I’m sure it will never come to that. You know I’m still a hard ass bitch.”

  “Are you ready to take home your first pet?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Paul stepped in a small, messy office. She followed. The desk was littered with actual paper, and the concrete walls were covered with snapshots of different animals. “Success stories?” She asked, nodding at the photos.

  “Exactly! And your little guy is going up there too.” He gestured for her to sit.

  “He’s not what I would call ‘little’!”

  “You know what I mean. Geez, I’m sure I put the file here, somewhere.” He rummaged through several stacks of paper. “Ah, there it is.”

  Paul showed the file to Lacey, explaining each sheet of paper. “Here’s your record of his shots, which are given to any animals that comes through the shelter. He’s already been neutered, so there’s no need to worry about that. And he’s micro-chipped by the shelter, and has his license which will be current until next year.”

  Lacey signed the form where Paul indicated, and then followed him out into the main part of the shelter. “Do you have a leash?”

  “No, I forgot to put it in the car when I left this morning. See? Already a bad pet parent. Maybe we should forget it.”

  “Not on your life.” Paul grinned. “So, I did Morgan’s evaluation myself, and I think he’ll be a good and loving companion for you.” They stopped in front of the brindle dog’s cage. Immediately, the dog’s ears went up and he tipped his head, as if he was evaluating Lacey. Then, he approached her, poking his nose through the chain link gate and wagging his tail. “Look, he remembers you.”

  “He does!” It did seem to Lacey that Morgan remembered her, perhaps because she was the one that made the ringleader give the dogs who were still in the pit water while they waited for the SPCA. “Hi, fella,” she said, feeling awkward talking to an animal.

  “Dogs remember by scent, so he would remember meeting you even if months had passed. Or years.”

  His tail wagged even faster, until it seemed as if he no longer controlled it, and it wagged in a perfect circle, his butt even swaying from side to side with the effort. It looked so comical that both Lacey and Paul broke out in heart-felt laughter.

  “Watch this,” Paul said, grabbing a leash from a hook outside the gate. He looked at the dog. “Morgan, sit.” With the command, he made a motion with his right hand, palm up, fingers and thumb pressed together in a point, and then drawn back toward him. The dog immediately sat, though his tail never stopped its side-to-side motion and looked like a windshield wiper on the floor of the cage. “Good dog!”

/>   Paul opened the gate and looped the braided leash over the dog’s head. Morgan sat until the man handed the leash to her, then he scooted closer to her, his butt never leaving the ground. “What is he doing?”

  “Morgan’s extremely well-trained. He’s just waiting for you to tell him it’s okay. So far, I’ve seen that he understands sit, stay, down, heel, walk, and, of course, treat.”

  Curious, Lacey watched the dog’s ears and stance as Paul recited the words, and it did seem as though certain words caught Morgan’s attention more than others. “What’s heel?” This was something she’d never heard of unless it was talking about shoes or the bottom of the foot, and she couldn’t figure out what it might mean to a dog.

  “Dogs are often trained to walk on a leash with their shoulders even with the handler’s leg.” He took the leash, and demonstrated, he and Morgan walking up and down the aisle like a pair of models on a fashion show runway.

  “Oh, I see. That’s good to know.”

  “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Oh, I’m sure it will work out great, but I want you to know you can contact me anytime, okay? My number’s on the paperwork.”

  “Okay, Paul, thanks. It’s gonna be great.” She broke out in a smile. “Come on, Morgan, let’s go home.” The dog remained sitting and looked at her. “Oh, yeah, forgot. Heel!”

  The last thing she saw was Paul’s laughing face.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  His body was vibrating, the muscles twitching like a nervous tic. He tried to settle himself, but it was impossible. Though he tried to lay still on the bed, Xiong had no control over his body, and his legs kept jerking involuntarily as if he had restless legs syndrome. He tried to feed to calm the storm within him, but the last one seemed to be settling in his gut like a case of E. coli. He felt the urge to feed again, but that was impossible until he was serene. Xiong didn’t realize that the symptoms he was experiencing were the same as those of a human suffering from drug withdrawal.

  He tried again. Closing his eyes, he projected himself away from his body, until his awareness hovered over the bed, near the ceiling, looking down on the scene in the room. He could make out the shape of his body under the blanket; he seemed to have the chills, something unfamiliar to him, so he was forced to pull the as yet unused quilt from its place in his closet and remove it from the original packaging. Xiong didn’t like the heaviness of it pressing on his body, but he endured, trying to escape the cold.

  He saw his tether, shining and silvery, thin as a spider’s web and much more delicate. It stretched from his body to his awareness, providing a tangible link to his body. This thread was a necessity of astral travel. Without it, traveling on an alternate plane would make it difficult, if not impossible, for him to find and return to his physical body. It was imperative for Xiong to keep that strand intact during his travels, and he used to be so good at it. Ling often commented how rapidly he picked up the task. He also saw the faint outline of the last soul he Reaped.

  Lately, though, he was having trouble maintaining his connection to his body. He tested many times, never leaving sight of his room or his home, because he was afraid the link was too fragile. Ling warned him many times never to let go of his thread, or hún, as she called it, using the Chinese term for spirit. This was the bit of his life force that could travel on the ethereal plane, which was necessary for the harvesting of human souls. Ling made him practice astral projection for months before she would let him try the technique by Reaping the spirit of a pet who was dying.

  Ling often told him how important the human spirits were in the balance of the Universe, and this is why apprentice Reapers were instructed using the souls of pets. There were certain lower classes of Reapers who were not suited, for one reason or another, for harvesting humans, and these were the ones who Reaped souls from creatures living in the wild. But the animals who became pets of the human population suddenly had a connection to their humans, raising the importance of their spirits in the delicate equilibrium of the Universe. So those Reapers who were training their replacements used these animals as a teaching method.

  Xiong wasn’t looking for an animal soul this time. He was craving the real thing. If I don’t get to feed, I will die! Why is this so hard? All the while, the voices in his head kept up a constant chatter, wanting him to let them go, wanting to return to their families. When he tried to project his hún, he could see his own thread, but it was mingled with the wisps of the other souls, each one branching outward from his body like multiple strands of yarn, moving away from him and in the direction of their physical bodies. His own sliver umbilical cord was almost lost in the chaos of the others, and often he couldn’t tell the difference. He did not realize when he stole the first soul that its astral umbilical would still be attached to the physical body, since it wasn’t time for that body to expire.

  Turning his subtle body away from the tangle of tethers around his physical body, he soared up through the ceiling of his bedroom, and through the roof of his home. Once outside, Xiong could still see the cords of the others, stretching out from the house in all directions, like a child’s drawing of the sun. Now that he was away from the shining brightness of the cords around his body, he could see the other spirits in the city as tiny pinpricks of light in the darkness. It was like being immersed in space with the stars shining brightly in the blackness. Xiong first began by selecting special souls, those that he felt would give him the most power. As his addiction grew, he knew he could not be picky about which hún he stole, and he strove to increase his numbers instead, concentrating on areas of the city that were the most populated.

  He focused on a tall apartment building nearby. There were hundreds of spirits there, the húns glowing as their physical bodies slept and dreamed. Of course, if Xiong were attempting a normal harvest, the soul close to death would be glowing brightly, day or night. Stealing spirits before the body was dying required him to hunt at night, when the person was asleep and dreaming, so he could find the pinprick of light from the hún. It didn’t matter to him, as he worked during the day, and his nighttime travels often left him feeling rejuvenated as if he slept the entire time.

  Swooping down to the building, he hovered there, barely above the rooftop, and observed the small, twinkling souls. Some of them shined bright; others were dim in comparison. Xiong sought the brightest one, and zoomed through the roof and down to the bedroom. In his ‘hand’ he carried an antique medical bag of dark leather, an affectation he used so many times in the physical world, it became a sort of “body image memory” that went along with him during his astral projections. The bag had become part of his routine when he Reaped souls he had writs for.

  The human was sprawled out in the king-sized bed, alone, limbs splayed in every direction. He was face up and snoring loudly, the blanket and sheet spilling over the side of the bed. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath. The man’s boxer shorts were twisted, as if he had been tossing and turning or otherwise active in his sleep. But he was calm now, and it was what Xiong needed in order to coax the soul from its shell. Xiong placed his medical bag on the nightstand and watched his victim carefully, making sure that he was not disturbing the other man. The human suddenly snorted, coughed, and rolled over to one side.

  The movement was enough to distract Xiong, and he lost his focus on his hún. With an uncomfortable snapping sensation, he was suddenly back in his own body. Returning to conscious awareness so suddenly left his sweat-soaked skin trembling, and an instant migraine pounding in his head. He let out a howl of frustration. He had not been able to feed, and wasted more of his own precious energy in a projection that didn’t net him any benefit. He sat up in the bed, still shaking, and threw one of the pillows across the room as hard as he could. This isn’t working, he thought angrily. I may have to find another way to guarantee I can Reap the spirits of these pathetic humans. I don’t know how. Yet. But I’ll find a way.

  12

  He who does not prevent
a crime when he can, encourages it. ~~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

  Lacey’s first night with her new companion went better than she expected. Morgan was well-mannered and didn’t seem to mind being in the house; the woman didn’t know if he had been housed indoors or in outside cages before, but he was respectful of her home. After sniffing each room in the house as he followed Lacey around, he appeared to be content to curl up on the carpet, against the couch and under her feet.

  She only had to show him the dog door once, and he soon learned that he could come and go as he pleased. But Lacey noticed if he did go outside without her, Morgan took care of business and returned to her side as quickly as possible. The lone issue came at bedtime. Lacey was awake in bed for an hour, because every time she neared sleep, the dog would get up, move a few steps away, and then lay down again with a huge sigh. It seemed he was only comfortable if Lacey allowed him in the king-size bed with her. So, eventually the two dissimilar creatures found a happy medium, and slipped into a deep sleep.

  Before she left the house, Lacey made sure her new pet’s food and water bowls were both full, and left a note on the white board for Leah, her housekeeper. The older woman met Morgan the previous night, so Lacey was assured the two would get along. When Lacey arrived at the department, she found young officer Moss waiting near her office, a look of barely-contained excitement on her face.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

  “You’re chipper this morning, Officer.”

  “Oh, please sir, just call me Kazz. Everyone does.”

  “Kazz. Have you seen Detective Scarber yet?”

  “Yes, sir. He went to refill his coffee, sir.”