“It’s not very practical with the heat and humidity,” David said, trying hard not to smile even though he found humor in the question. “Besides, it makes it difficult to blend.” He took a step forward and felt a stab of disappointment when she took a defensive step back. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sarah. I’d never hurt you. I promise.”
“You’re not?”
He shook his head again and moved closer. This time, she stayed put.
Tentatively, she reached out, barely touching his chest as if she feared her fingers might pass through his body.
“For Christ’s sake, Sarah, I’m not Casper. I’m flesh and blood, just like you.” David grabbed her wrist and pressed her hand against his chest. She flinched at first, but then her muscles relaxed, and her hand finally stopped shaking.
He watched the emotions play over her face, from panic to fear to inquisitiveness to absolute wonder.
For the next hour, he fielded her questions. Some he could answer, some he couldn’t. She possessed an inherent curiosity, brimming with the desire to bridge the gaps in her knowledge. She started with the basics: How did someone become a reaper? Is a reaper still human? How is a soul harvested? Why was it even necessary? From there she branched out, asking detailed questions about David’s life, before and after his current incarnation.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Sixty years, give or take,” David replied, leaning back against the couch cushions. He regarded her with wary eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. She seemed to be taking things well, but who knows how she’d handle it once everything sunk in.
Sarah’s brows shot up so far they almost touched her hairline. “Sixty?” Her gaze tracked over his body, the intensity in her eyes making him shift in his seat. “You’re in pretty good shape for an old guy. When were you born?”
“1925.”
She paused, probably doing the math. Then she nodded. “Makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Well, yes. Your body is young, but sometimes your eyes have the sadness of an old soul.” She shrugged. “It sort of makes sense now.”
He didn’t know what to make of her last statement. He wasn’t sad. Hadn’t been in a very long time. Resigned, yes, and more than a little bitter. But he’d closed himself off from the remaining sentiments a long time ago, preferring the cold comfort of indifference to the pain associated with deeper emotions.
“One more question,” Sarah said, pulling David from his moment of introspection.
“Yes?”
“Could you show me again, the harvesting of a soul?” she asked, the uncertainty returning to her voice. “So I can reconcile this all in my mind?”
His first instinct was to give her a resounding no. It was bad enough she’d seen it the first time. But then he reconsidered her request, carefully weighing the pros and cons. At this point, what was the harm? She already knew who he was and what he did. A demonstration would simply serve to confirm her findings. Still, watching death wasn’t an easy business, especially for a mortal. The effects could prove detrimental.
David looked into her eyes and found the raw need for closure, for that final bit of proof to ease her troubled mind. It was all he needed to solidify his decision. “When’s a good time for you?” he asked, pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.
“How about now?”
“No, I don’t have anything else scheduled this afternoon.” David poured over the schedule of assignments. His next job with the kid wasn’t until a little after midnight. Martin had a seven-thirty on the coast while Dmitri was working the south side of town in a little over an hour. Checking his watch, David did a quick calculation. If they took the expressway, they might make it in time.
“Okay, but we have to leave now. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Sarah nodded and gave him a weak smile. “Positive.”
Even though traffic had been heavy on the Greenway, they still managed to arrive at their destination with about ten minutes to spare. Always mindful of an exit strategy, David parked at the Denny’s restaurant a block away and they walked the remaining distance. He guided her to the nearby strip mall, where a steady stream of foot traffic gave them ample opportunity to become one of many, invisible and innocuous.
“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked.
“We wait, and we act casual.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, nudging her close. The warmth of her body seeped through his clothes, sparking a hunger for something other than food. “And do our best to blend in with the surroundings.”
“Okay.” She took in every detail with anxious eyes, searching for signs of danger. “How do you know when it’s going to happen?”
“I can feel it.” When she shot him a quizzical look, he offered an explanation that her scientific mind would accept. “Reapers are in tune to the frequency of death.”
She nodded, but said nothing. Her eyes were still busy scanning the crowd, trying to spot death before it arrived.
“Relax,” David said, leaning closer so he could whisper in her ear. The scent of her shampoo filled his world, providing him with a welcome sense of comfort. “We have another four or five minutes before the time of death.”
A late-model muscle car pulled into the far end of the parking lot and David immediately recognized the driver as Dmitri. The big Russian backed into a spot closest to the exit and stepped out of the car. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt, with a Panthers ball cap pulled low over his eyes. He activated the alarm before walking toward the street, his eyes scouring the area like a hunter searching for prey.
“What does it feel like?” Sarah asked, her eyes alight with inquisitive fire. Did she look that way when she got close to a breakthrough in her lab? He’d be willing to bet his own soul on it. How about in the heat of passion, when she lost herself in the moment? God, he’d give damn near anything to find out.
“It feels a little like an electric current pulsing through your body. The sensation acts as a homing beacon, drawing us to the exact point and time of death. The closer to the fixed point of mortality, the stronger the feeling.”
“So everything is predetermined? What about free will?”
“Not everything is predetermined,” David said with a shake of his head. “Birth and death are fixed points. What you do with the time in between is up to you.” Or so he’d been told. His cynical side still wasn’t buying it.
“Oh.” Her nose wrinkled, an odd expression crossing her face.
“What is it?”
Sarah shook her head and averted her gaze. “Nothing.”
David tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. “Honesty, remember?”
She blushed. “Well, what you’re describing …” Her voice trailed off, and she had that perplexed look again, the one she’d had when she thought she was losing it. “I … I think I can feel it.”
The answer left him momentarily stunned. Was it possible? He’d never met or heard of a mortal possessing the ability to sense death. But at this point, he’d be willing to believe damn near anything.
“Well, you were able to see the soul downtown,” David said, absently rubbing his thumb along the edge of his chin. “It’s possible you have some kind of connection with the afterlife.”
Plus, it might explain why he couldn’t manipulate her thoughts. If she possessed some type of psychic ability, then her mind might also be naturally shielded against intrusion.
Sarah stiffened, a flash of darkness clouding her features. “David, it just got a lot stronger.”
Shit. He’d just experienced the same hike in intensity, which meant they were operating on the same wavelength. Sharpening his focus, he tracked the signal to its point of origin and got a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Oh man, this was going to suck.
The child couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve. She was a pretty girl, dark-skinned and gangly, with a thick head of curly black hair trailing down to he
r waist. Another year or two and she’d have all the young boys wrapped around her little finger. A neon green backpack hung over her shoulder, filled to bursting. She bounded down the steps of the city transit bus and turned north on Conroy Road, completely oblivious to the fact that her young life was about to come to an end.
It was bad enough Sarah insisted on witnessing a reap. Why did it have to be one so young?
“Why don’t you go back to the car?” he suggested. “You don’t need to see this.”
“Sure I do.” She rooted herself beside him, arms crossed and unwilling to budge.
“No, really. This is hard enough for a seasoned reaper to handle.”
“Why?” She followed his line of vision, her gaze settling on the young girl. Her focus intensified, as if searching for some hidden clue to the child’s appointment with destiny. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“I don’t know, but if we’re here it’s not going to be something you want to watch.”
He gripped her upper arm and tried to lead her away but she tugged against his hold. Wrenching free, she glared at him, her eyes brimming with a little bit of anger and a whole lot of determination.
“What, you think I want to watch that little girl die?” The words came out in a low, sharp hiss. “Believe me, I don’t. The only reason I’m here is to convince myself I’m not a few cards short of a full deck.” A hint of wildness flashed in her eyes, letting David know how badly she needed this moment of affirmation.
David clenched and unclenched his hands, his attention divided between the little girl about to die and the grown woman desperate to confirm her own sanity.
Would it really help her, to see how he earned his e-ticket out of damnation? At what cost? Witnessing death took its toll on the living; what would be her price?
A sharp spike of mortality drew David from his thoughts. Something just triggered the chain of events leading to the inevitable. With no time left for debate, he decided to go with his gut.
“You can stay. But keep out of the way and let Dmitri do his job.”
Sarah nodded, looking anxious but grim. “Okay.”
Less than a minute later, two cars peeled away from the light at the nearby intersection. The bright yellow Honda took an immediate lead but the black and white Mazda raced hot on its heels. Horns blared and brakes screeched as the pair weaved in and out of traffic. The Mazda shifted gears and surged ahead, cutting into the Honda’s lane. The driver of the Honda swerved right and then overcorrected, veering off the street and onto the sidewalk.
Acting on instinct, Sarah started toward the girl but David wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her back. He spun her around, cradling her head against his shoulder so she couldn’t watch the child’s final moments.
“Please don’t look,” he said, his voice pleading and his hand firm against the back of her neck. He held her tight to keep her head from turning, but also to provide an anchor for himself, a safe haven from the disaster unfolding before his eyes.
The girl screamed a few seconds before impact, and even David had to close his eyes.
A sickening thud brought an end to the screaming, and then chaos gave way to unsettling silence.
David opened his eyes in time to see Dmitri dash across the street. Never one to waste time, he crouched down beside the girl’s lifeless body, intent on finishing the job before police and paramedics arrived on the scene.
“It’s over, Sarah.” David loosened his grip so she could turn toward the street. Her eyes looked a little red, but otherwise she appeared to be holding it together. “Dmitri’s about to harvest the soul; you might want to catch this part.”
Sarah stayed in David’s arms, twisting her neck so she could view the site of the accident. She watched in silence as the girl’s essence broke free of its mortal shell. Cautiously, the soul abandoned the bindings of flesh and blood, skittish as a kitten but curious about its change in condition.
The only good thing about collecting the soul of a child was that it was quick. In general, children were trusting and—in spite of their parents’ lectures about strangers—eager to go along with anyone offering the promise of comfort and security. No fuss, no muss.
Dmitri used the knowledge to his advantage, drawing the child to him and harvesting her essence with the skill of a seasoned professional. Still, there was the unmistakable flash of grief in his eyes when the soul merged with his body, subjecting him to an onslaught of juvenile thoughts and emotions.
Finished, Dmitri stood and stalked over to the wrecked Honda. His face held no trace of expression but his eyes burned hot with unspoken anger as he wrenched open the driver’s side door.
The driver was a kid himself. No older than eighteen, he had chubby cheeks and braces on his teeth. He looked up at Dmitri through glassy eyes and gave him a weak smile. The smile quickly faded, though, when Dmitri grabbed the kid by the back of his head and rammed him face-first into the steering wheel. The impact broke the kid’s nose and knocked him unconscious.
With the sound of emergency vehicles in the distance, Dmitri darted across the street and back to his car. Giving the girl’s body one final look, he made the sign of the cross before sliding into the driver’s seat and leaving the scene.
Sarah didn’t speak for most of the ride home. Not for lack of anything to say, but because her brain was too busy digesting the day’s events. She stared blankly through the front windshield, her hands clasped in her lap.
Talk about an eye-opening afternoon. The day’s revelations swirled in her mind, tearing away at everything she’d ever known, everything she’d ever believed. She scrutinized each piece of information, working methodically to label, classify, and compartmentalize. After all, it was what she did best.
Okay, so there really was such a thing as life after death, Heaven and Hell, with death serving as the moment of transition. Your postmortem destination depended on the sum quality of your mortal lifetime. Whether that prescribed to any particular religious belief she wasn’t sure; she’d have to ask David later. Those judged damned but redeemable were given a chance to earn their salvation by serving as agents of Death, collecting the souls of those unfortunate enough to die under unnatural and/or violent circumstances, such as war, accident, suicide, or murder.
Two such agents currently resided in her apartment building. One of them was a fantastic kisser with a penchant for Samuel Adams and the Miami Dolphins. He had the most exquisite gray eyes she’d ever seen and his very presence made her heart flutter like a schoolgirl.
She cast a glance in David’s direction, testing the theory. Yep, definite heart-flutter material. She watched him for a few minutes, taking in the distinct lines of his profile, the hard set of his jaw. Before he caught her staring she redirected her gaze to the scenery zipping by at sixty-five miles per hour and slipped back into her thoughts.
Spirits were very much real. They comprised of a) souls who resisted crossing over due to unfinished business or b) souls of those who died through unnatural circumstances and never received guidance to the other side. Those with a connection to the spirit world often mistook such spirits for ghosts. Which meant …
She wasn’t going crazy. Her mother was never crazy. Ditto for Grandma Pearl. The knowledge removed an invisible weight from her shoulders, allowing her to let down her guard for the first time since she was seven. The feeling of relief was indescribable.
All her life she’d strived for structure and security. And here she was, riding shotgun with the Grim Reaper. How ironic. She let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. This was definitely not the way she envisioned her day turning out.
“How are you feeling?” David asked, taking his eyes off the road long enough to glance in her direction. He shifted gears and the car slowed as they approached the tollbooth. He tossed four quarters into the toll bucket before rolling the window up and merging back into traffic.
Good question. She felt off-balance and unnerved. Conflicted and overwhelmed. Competing emot
ions bubbled to the surface, battling for dominance. Relief. Curiosity. Anger. Guilt. Not to mention a healthy dose of fear.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she finally answered. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”
David nodded. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am … kind of. I mean it’s nice to know I won’t need the rubber room anytime in the immediate future, but it’s not that simple.”
She’d spent the past twenty years living life like she was always late for an appointment, cramming in as many life experiences as possible before her brain took a one-way trip to La-La Land. It was a relief to know she could relax a little and enjoy the scenery. But still, she felt resentful about the wasted time, the unnecessary fear, and constant worrying.
She shifted in her seat so she could see David better. His hands were firm on the wheel as he took the exit onto Goldenrod Road. On the outside he looked steady and relaxed, but upon closer examination she noticed the grim set of his mouth, the brows lightly furrowed.
“How do you handle it?” she asked, feeling more comfortable tossing the ball back into his court for a little while.
“Handle what?” His tone was flat, his eyes never leaving the road.
“You know what.”
She let the silence stretch out between them, waiting patiently for him to answer the question.
“You get used to it after a while,” he finally said, still showing no hint of emotion.
“How can you?”
“I don’t know.” His brows creased as he lifted a shoulder, aiming for nonchalant but falling short. “We all find a way to cope. It’s not like there’s a lot of choice in the matter.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. “And how do you cope?”
David’s stare stayed locked on the road. He punched the gas, shooting through the yellow at Colonial before the light turned red. Another mile passed before he said, “It’s different for everybody.”
“I’m not asking about everybody. I’m asking about you.”
He slanted a dark look in her direction. “Christ, you’re almost as bad as the kid when it comes to this shit.”
Grave Intentions Page 15
