by Jen L. Grey
I throw the pencil down on the table and stand, pacing the room. My parents have been disappointed for as long as I can remember. This life and skill set has never come easy for me, and it kills them that I’m not one of the stellar trainees who can lead our kind by example.
The door downstairs opens and closes, and footsteps make their way into the kitchen.
Great, Mom must be home, which means it’s getting close to time for another job tonight. Pots and pans clang, and the water turns on.
Shit, I better find the new target before I have an audience. Even though I’m not supposed to know who my target is until I’m handed the folder, I have the uncanny ability to find things. At least this is the one part of the hunt I enjoy. My skin prickles, and I get a little breathless. This is the easy, fun part for me, even though my methods are… unconventional.
I shut the door to my room and lock it. I do not want my parents walking in and catching me. That would begin the whole night off on the wrong foot.
The night of my tenth birthday comes flashing through my mind.
Almost ten years ago
My heart pounded so hard, the sound echoed in my ears. I’d both been waiting and dreading this day for my whole life. This was the first big milestone in any reaper’s life. This was the age when I would begin to hunt. Finding a target was the most crucial step in the process, so parents were taught to train their children young. If you couldn’t find them, you couldn’t reap.
Even though it was my birthday, Mom and Dad had to attend an elder’s meeting, so I’d been home alone most of the day. I wasn’t sure what to expect that night, but I couldn’t wait to be a part of the process.
The front door opened and closed. Oh, they’re here. My pulse sputtered.
“Christina?” My father’s tone sounded hurried. “Please come join us. It’s time.”
This was it. This was my opportunity to shine. My short legs propelled me toward the hallway and down the stairs.
As I walked down the stairs, I held on to the long, brass handrails and glanced at my parents down at bottom in the foyer. They stood by the front doors with their backs toward me. I wondered what it would be like if, for once, they would be turned my direction and smiling at my arrival.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, they didn’t even acknowledge my presence, except my mother who held out a picture to me.
They had yet to tell me happy birthday, but I guessed it was okay since they acknowledged it by letting me hunt their next target. Taking a deep breath, I took the picture of an old lady. This must be one of their targets for the night.
My mom raised an eyebrow. “Don’t just stand there. Find her. Our family has done this for decades; it should be inherent.”
Sweat covered my palms. One of our abilities is to transport to our target. That’s the only time we can travel that way and home afterwards. They had shown me, during the past month leading up to this moment, how to stare at the picture and let your body take over. However, when I did what I’d been taught, nothing happened.
After a few moments, my stomach soured and hands quivered. This can’t be right. Nothing’s happening.
My dad snatched the picture from me and glanced at Mom. “Is this even the right person, Janice?”
She scowled. “Of course, it is. Why else would I have given her that?””
I hated it when they fought like this.
He handed the picture back to me. “Then, if this is the right picture, you must not be concentrating. Don’t overthink it. Just let your instincts take over. Both my and your mother’s family have been top-of-the-line reapers for decades. You will figure this out and fast.”
Clutching the picture, I focused until it became blurry. Huffs and groans reaffirmed the disappointment that would reflect in their eyes when I was brave enough to look up.
After a few more seconds, my dad clenched his hands. “That’s enough.” He snatched the picture again and glared at it. “We will show you how this is done one more time, but tomorrow, you will figure it out. Do you understand?”
Blinking back tears, I nodded. “Yes, Daddy. I understand.”
Bending down, he took my hand. “Do you know what happens if you disappoint this family?” He paused a moment. “If reapers can’t perform their jobs, they must go in front of the elders to have their fate decided.” He squeezed my hand hard. “If you aren’t helpful to our community and perform your roles, you will either get locked up and tortured or, if you’re lucky, they will take mercy on you and kill you outright.”
My lips trembled, and I felt dizzy. All this time, I thought the elders were there to protect us all, but if what Dad said was true, then they were to be feared.
He stood back up and handed the folder back to Mom, who began hunting her target down again.
The next day, I replayed the night before over and over in my head. I had to make sure I didn’t make another mistake like that again. I just had to try harder. Daddy must have been right. I wasn’t focused enough.
I hit the bottom stairs and found my parents standing at the kitchen counter.
Mom’s paisley purse was laid open beside her, and a large folder was spread out in front of them. She had one of her hands on her hip, while her thumb on her other hand rubbed her bottom lip.
Dad stood on the other side, leaning over the contents as well. The top button of his shirt was undone, and his tie was loosened to his chest.
I cleared my throat, not sure how to proceed.
As Dad turned in my direction, he motioned me over. “Here is your target. Come take a look.”
I inspected the picture in his hands. This one showed a middle-aged man.
A whiff of jasmine hit my nose as Mom pushed the picture closer to me and met my gaze. “No time like the present to begin the job. Make us proud.”
My hands were slippery with sweat, so I wiped them on my pants. I took a deep, steadying breath and grabbed the picture. My heart pounded in my ears as I stared and tried to force my mind blank.
We all waited for whatever sensation to come over me. However, it didn’t happen.
What’s wrong with me? My parents are going to be so ashamed.
My mother’s face broke out with a smug smile. “See, Frank? I told you. She froze up last night. I didn’t do anything.”
Daddy’s jaw ticked. “You think that’s a good thing?” He took a jerky step toward her. “It would be better if you had done something. How can our daughter reap if she can’t even find her target? This could ruin both our family legacies.”
Her mouth slackened, and she blinked. “Shit, you’re right.” She rubbed her arms. “What are we going to do?”
Maybe I couldn’t find targets like them, but I could find them my way. I’d find this man just like I found my hidden toys. By picturing what I needed in my mind, I knew exactly where to find it. I could visualize its location.
So, that’s what I did. As soon as I closed my eyes and recalled his face, he appeared in my head in his den, sitting on a recliner watching television.
Well, crap. That didn’t help me any. I needed to determine how to find him. So, I pulled back the picture to where I was viewing him from the outside of his house and got his address off the mailbox.
Hurrying past my parents, I grabbed a piece a paper and jotted the information on it. Yes, they would be proud and stop arguing. I turned around and walked over to Dad, holding it out.
He reached for it with a raised eyebrow. His forehead creased as he read it. “What the hell is this?”
I lifted my chin high and pulled my shoulders back. “That’s the target’s address. I found him.”
“Wait.” Mom came over and looked at the paper. “How did you get this information? This is very unorthodox.”
Some of the wind deflated out of me. “Well, I was having a hard time finding them your way, so I found him my way.”
Silence echoed in the room. Dad raised the hand with the paper. “What does that mean?”
&nb
sp; I bit my lower lip and avoided his eyes. “When I have a hard time finding something, I picture it in my head and then I know exactly where it is.”
Pursing her lips, Mom fiddled with her wedding band. “Honey, what do you mean you know where it is?”
This wasn’t the reaction I expected. I thought they would be happy that I figured out a way to find the target. “I see it in my head. Like I saw the man sitting in his recliner watching television. I couldn’t tell you how to get there, so I moved out of his house and to the mailbox to get the address.”
My mother’s face paled, and my dad’s mouth dropped open.
“No.” My dad grabbed my arm, hard. “Don’t ever do that again.” He squeezed harder and pulled me close. “Promise me.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I nodded. “I promise, Daddy.”
Present Day
Even today, I still can’t find my targets the traditional way, but that’s my little secret. It was so hard, when I was small, to pretend my mind was vacant when it was, in fact, the exact opposite. However, over time, my ability has improved, especially in the realm of hunting targets. I can now find my next target without a picture, so I can locate them prior to getting my official assignment.
Truth be told, Beth knew about it, but since her passing, I haven’t been brave enough to let another soul in on my secret. She was my best friend, my soul sister. Watching her die killed a part of me. What I wouldn’t give to have her back here beside me, talking about boys and what party we were going to crash this weekend.
She was carefree and fun, everything I wish I could be. Not many people are able to break down my walls, but Beth tore them down and brought a part of me out that no one else could. It’s not fair that she died and left me behind. We were supposed to do everything together, but here I still stand.
I can’t get the picture out of my head, how she looked the night she passed. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to follow her brother, but we were curious. It’s not often a large group of young reapers gets assigned several targets together. I didn’t expect things to go the way they did.
The scent of garlic infiltrates my room. Crap, dinner is close to ready, which means my assignment folder should be here soon. I need to locate the mark fast before I’m called downstairs.
Sitting on my light purple sheets, I lean my back against the pale blue wall.
Crossing my legs, I close my eyes and search for a face in my mind. Suddenly, a girl around my age appears with hazel eyes and long blonde hair. She’s the spitting image of my best friend, Beth. The one difference between them is this girl has a cleft chin, whereas Beth didn’t. She’s sitting on her bed with school books around her and has earbuds in her ears, listening to music.
A sharp pain stabs my chest, and I double over. My breathing becomes shallow and my stomach upset. There has to be a mistake. This girl can’t be my target.
Stumbling from my bed, I make my way to the window. The sun is setting, and my stomach drops. There has to be a way to get out of this. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t watch Beth die twice.
However, my dad’s words echo in my ears. My parents’ patience has been spread as thin as I can stretch it. If I can’t finish my job tonight, I might has well turn myself in to the elders. Maybe they would have more mercy on me then.
Chapter Three
A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Come in.” How am I going to hide what I know?
The door opens, and my dad walks through. He tightens the knot of his light blue tie and then runs a hand over it to flatten it against his gray shirt. As he adjusts his suit pants, he glances at me. “You’ve been summoned by the elders. Find something appropriate to wear and meet us downstairs.” He turns and pauses at the threshold. “Don’t disappoint us tonight.”
When the door shuts behind him, I close my eyes and raise my hands to cover my mouth.
Shit. This isn’t good. I’ve been dreading this moment and hoping it would be closer to my twentieth birthday. But who am I kidding? My birthday is less than two months away and this is inevitable. It weighs on my chest and makes it feel as if it’s difficult to breathe.
If I run now, how far could I get before everyone realizes I’m gone? This is one of the times I wish I was invisible. I unravel my legs and put my feet on the floor. I stand and make my way to the closet. A chill courses through my body, and I flip through my clothes with cold fingers. I search through the t-shirts and jumpers until I come to my nicer dresses. If I don’t dress the part, my parents will flip out before we even get there.
Three dresses capture my attention. I pull them out and lay them on my bed. The first one is a sleeveless, black dress with a high neckline. The dress tapers in at the waist and ends at my knees. The second option is a red, sleeveless dress that is a v-cut and flows down to the ground. I touch the last one which is a light yellow, short, formal lace dress.
My preference is the last one, but my instincts say to go with the conservative choice, so I grab the black one. With shaky hands, I undress as the walls begin to swirl, and the ground seems to move underneath my feet. I sit on the bed and take deep breaths. I better get my nerves under control or there is no telling what tonight’s outcome will be. I’ve been through worse and I’m still kicking. There are times when it doesn’t seem as if I am moving forward, but that’s a whole different story.
The room steadies itself, and I draw in a long, calming breath. I have to take this one moment at a time. The black dress is still in my hand, and thank goodness it’s not all waded up from my dizzy spell. I slip on the dress and walk into my bathroom.
There is a loud knock at my door. “Christina, you better hurry.” My mom’s tone is sharp.
I wish they would let me do this on my own, but that’s just as likely as finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I apply my makeup, choosing a soft charcoal eyeshadow and a red matte lipstick. I brush my long, black hair and leave it straight down, taking one last glance in the mirror to make sure it looks perfect. If one hair is out of place or my makeup is smudged, I will never hear the end of it from my parents.
After finding nothing wrong, I head back into my room to slip my black high heels on and head downstairs to meet my parents.
Dad is waiting by the door, and sounds come from the kitchen. He glances in that direction. “Your mom is putting dinner away. We weren’t expecting a call from the elders quite this soon.
Neither was I. But it was just a matter of time. However, I keep myself steady, not letting my expression slip and show any of my inner turmoil. That is unacceptable in this family.
The door swings open, and Mom joins us. She raises a hand to check her French twist and smooths her hair back. She glances at her deep red dress suit. “Okay, let’s get going. We don’t want to keep the council waiting.”
“Ladies first.” Dad grabs the door and motions for us to exit.
Now is the time we pretend to be a loving and doting family. We are outside the house. The white BMW X6 is pulled up front in our circular driveway. Dad opens Mom’s door to help her inside while I climb in the back seat.
Soon, Dad is in front and shifts the car into gear. We drive down our long driveway, and I stare through the side window. The front gate opens and off we go.
The car ride is silent, and the short five miles to meet the elders seems to pass in seconds.
We pull up at the old, dark mansion. It’s strange, because no matter what time of day I travel here, it always seems gloomy. It’s a gorgeous mansion of brown stones, and the door is a dark chestnut wood, but my skin crawls whenever I’m here.
Dad pulls the car to a stop near the front door, and we all get out and walk up the stairs.
When we reach the front door, it opens and a butler appears. Dad hands him the key to the car, and we walk deeper into the house. The rooms are dim and bare. No one lives here except for the butlers that keep the place up and the ones who live in the dungeon. A shiver courses thr
ough me.
No one else ever seems affected by this place like me. Even Beth thought I was a little nuts when I told her it seemed off here. Maybe it’s just because I never have really felt like I fit in.
We walk down the long hallway, and soon, we make it to the last door on the left. The door is shut, and there are muffled voices coming from the other side.
The light flickers, and Dad reaches out and knocks before turning the knob. He stands still for a moment then opens the door and walks in.
Mom and I follow close behind.
At first glance, the room appears empty, but as we step further in, the room opens up to the right which was hidden by the door. There is a large mahogany table in the center that can seat up to fourteen people. On a platform against the wall, elevated above the large table, are four chairs, each regal enough they could pass as thrones.
Of course, the elders can’t rule on the same level as everyone else. They must look down their noses at us.
Mother walks around the cold, dark brown room. “Where is everyone?” She turns with her forehead creased. “I thought they asked for Christina?”
The stench of rotting corpse and decay hits my nose hard. My stomach churns. The elders are close by because that is their signature smell. No one else seems to notice it, but to me, the older the reaper, the more like death they smell. In order to become an elder, you must have reaped some outrageous number and come from the right familial ties. That’s my mom and dad’s goals but not mine.
“I’m sure they will be here soon.” My dad’s tone is flat and he scowls.
A door in the back opens, and the four elders make their entrance. They are made of two main couples. The ones that have served the longest enter first. The lady’s hair is all gray, but she still manages to maintain a youthful look despite her age. She’s clutching onto her husband’s arm and keeps her eyes forward, not even glancing in our direction. As she approaches the chair, she lifts up her long, red dress so she doesn’t slip as she slides in.
