by S E Rise
Here it comes.
The thump and slide of flesh and the inevitable sickening thud as the upper portion of Billy’s head made contact with the edge of the ceramic tunnel.
Marjorie screamed and I watched a look of satisfaction settle into Thorn’s eyes.
That was all I needed to see. I may not be able to kill the kid out right, because it wasn’t quite his time and I hadn’t been assigned to reap his soul, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make him pay a little for his betrayal. As I stepped forward into their company I grabbed Thorn by the top of his head, fingers intertwined in his hair and tossed him face first through the fence and rebar. A splash of blood and a couple chunks of flesh marked Thorn’s unexpected exit. I heard the slide, a thump and a scream as a few of Thorn’s bones shattered.
“Call 911…” I said and waited for someone to dial the number. Marjorie was the first to regain control and pull herself from the shock.
“Good Girl.” I finished and knew by the look in her eyes that she wouldn’t remember me.
The others lunged back and out of my reach, as I stepped up onto the edge and let myself drop into the concrete causeway.
Thorn’s screams of pain were annoying but I pushed them away and ignored them. I wasn’t here for him. He got to live and Billy did not. That’s how things went, bad shit happens to good people. We live, we breathe, and we die.
Billy’s face and head emerged from the inky shadow of the 96 inch pipe; his face was confused and a little bit excited. His soul did not know he was dead. I stopped a few yards short of his deformed and mangled body and waited for him to see it.
He looked up at me instead. The question just on the edge of his tongue.
“Did I make it?”
I remained silent, shook my head and shifted my gaze to where his body was dying.
“Oh.” His ghostly form said, his heart finally stopped and I reaped his soul.
Billy’s disappointed ghostly face faded into the shadow and I followed. My job here was done; I made the turn after a hundred or so yards and stepped through a forgotten doorway.
Chapter Five
Just go inside.
It wasn’t as easy as just going inside. There were variables to think about. Okay, there weren’t really any variables to actually contemplate. Yes, I am very long lived. Not immortal per say, if you cut me I will be bleed. My heart beats and I breathe. I heal and I feel. I just happen to do it much quicker than normal mortals…the healing part that is.
I have one big difference, I do not age.
There is a story of caution that all long lived or immortal beings know.
This one happens to involve a Reaper. (If you haven’t noticed I am not the only one of my kind obviously) One would think that not aging as your beloved grows old would be as bad as it gets. I beg to differ. Imagine finding the love of your life, knowing she will age and die in front of your eyes as you remain unchanged and not giving a damn because you listened to your heart. You were powerless to stop it anyway and you have embraced it, you will love her anyway. Damn the consequences.
As you can imagine, it’s very rare that we find a mortal being that can bypass the Forget Me Spell; almost as rare as finding someone with a touch of the old magic still running through their veins. The life of a Reaper is a lonely existence, so when you finally find that special one you hold onto her.
His name was Archibald and he was a Reaper. Her name was Jezebel, not the famous Jezebel but so named none-the-less. Archibald loved Jezebel unconditionally and their love affair lasted seventy years; much longer than one might expect considering their physical differences. As Jezebel grew old and feeble Archibald loved her anyway and only left her side to fulfill the demands of his job.
On such a day, Archibald returned from reaping the soul of a middle aged merchant. It was a normal reaping and the merchant had died horribly beneath an oxen drawn cart. As a Reaper we are given little choice as to who we reap. We driven by a compulsion, a compulsion that leads to exactly where we need to go. To further drive this compulsion there is a pain that accompanies it. It is the pains of hell, put in place to remind us that we made a deal and or bound by contract. The pain slowly grows until the soul assigned to us has been reaped. Once we have fulfilled our duty the pain dissipates or resets and we continue on as normal. If you do not reap the soul in the designated time, the pain compounds and strengthens exponentially.
As I said, Archibald fulfilled his duty with the merchant and felt the pain diminish. He was quickly on his way back to his elderly yet beloved Jezebel when the unthinkable happened. He stopped in his tracks; the pain of hell had resurfaced as the compulsion once again overtook him.
No
Nonononono…
But as much as he tried to deny it there was no doubt as to who his next assignment would be.
He cursed the gods and all of heaven and hell as he opened the front door to his home. How long had he been gifted her love? How much of his world was her? He could not…would not give her up. She was his beloved. His heart and soul. She was his.
He stood at the edge of their bed and felt the tears slide down his cheeks. Though very close to the age of ninety, he still saw her as that vibrant young nineteen year old woman he first fell in love with. As her time drew near, the pain grew stronger, manageable but stronger. He took her withered hand and lay beside her. The smell of wild flowers still scented her thinning hair.
She awoke to his presence and what she spoke next solidified his decision.
“I missed you.” She whispered and he felt her moment roll upon him. He squeezed her hand and felt her heart give its last beat.
“I cannot my love.” He said and watched as her soul left her still dead form and stood across the bed from him. The vision of her was vibrant and as lovely as the first day he set eyes upon her. She smiled at him and waited for him to fulfill his duty. She knew him to be an honorable man and had no doubt that he would do as he was required. She had known what he was for many years and accepted it as she had accepted him. Magic had existed in her family line for countless generations and so she had simply accepted what he was and loved him unconditionally as he had loved her.
“You must my love. My time here has come to end. I have and will always love you. We have always known that this day would come…please my love, set me free.” She said to him and the pain of loss compounded the pains of hell. The pain of both ripped through him and he screamed out to the world for relief. He settled his eyes upon the translucent image of his beloved and the accepted the pain. Welcomed it, transformed it into something abominable.
The pain was his price to pay to keep her with him. It was a price he willingly accepted.
As the hours, days, months and years passed her mortal flesh shrunk, rotted and turned to dust. Soon all but her bones were gone and still he had not severed the thread connecting her soul to her mortal husk. No other assignments had come to him and the pains of hell had reaped its own horror upon his body. He finally broke the bones of her skeletal wrist, severing her hand and watched as the tether to her soul came with it.
He left their dilapidated home with the hand bones of his beloved and her vibrant tethered soul trailing behind. He would not give her up. Though the pain eventually drove him insane, you can still hear his screams of anguish as he dwells within the darkness that separates this world and the Fade.
This is the story we know, the tale of caution we have heard to dissuade us from falling in love with a mortal companion. This was not something I ever wanted to experience but there was a mystery here, something about this woman called to me. Was it the mystery? What was this strange attraction I had for her?
There was only one way to find out.
They say it is better to have loved and lost than to never love at all…I wonder what “They” would say if they were suddenly put in Archibald’s proverbial shoes.
I gazed through the window and watched the last customer in the place turn to exit the store. The bells ab
ove the door chimed as it opened and jingled once more as it shut. The woman walked past me without a glance and continued on her way.
Just open the damn door.
I opened the door.
I ducked my head at the jingling bells though I was not in danger of knocking my head into them. I am tall but not that tall.
Hands in pockets or out? Maybe just one hand. Smile or relaxed? No, smiling for no reason will make me look like a serial killer.
The deli was cool, yet to my left a small fan blew a gentle breeze across me.
"Welcome...." she started and I saw her take a deep breath."The inconsiderate jerk has returned. What can I get for you tonight?" The last part held a tone of amusement and a touch of reconciliation. I recognized it as her attempt to add humor to the awkward second impression.
I smiled and swept a hand out and across in a mock attempt at a bow. "I have my lady, I have come to beg forgiveness and perhaps beg a grand sandwich from you."
Her blue eyes flashed with amusement and she arched an eyebrow in mock consideration. Her smile held mischief and I could tell she was enjoying the banter.
"Well doesn't he talk purty..." she responded in the accent of a southern belle. I felt myself smile and noticed it on the inside as well. Her name tag read Brin and I assumed it was short for Brianna.
"No ma'am, I just have a purty mouth." I responded, without thinking, in my best attempt at a southern drawl.
"I bet all the boys tell you that." Her response was quick and covered with zing. Damn that was a good one. Feisty, I like that. I felt the laugh escape and the sound of it surprised me; startled me almost. How long had it been since I laughed aloud? It had been too long and it broke the ice between us.
Her eyes met mine, then away and then back to my face. How is she doing this? How have I never met this woman before? "And on that incredible response, I believe I shall concede the floor and order something edible to put into this purty mouth. What does the lady recommend?"
She busied her hands with a clean towel and absently wiped at the stainless and very clean counter.
"Hmmm let's see...first I will have to ask you your name. My name is Brin." She said and extended a soft pink and impeccably clean hand across the counter and in my direction.
I took the proffered hand and it was cool and moist.
I held it a moment longer than normal and asked her a question before answering.
"Is Brin short for Brianna?" I asked and let go of her hand.
"Yes, but only my grandfather calls me Brianna. It's a bit too old fashion sounding for my taste."
"I see. I can understand that. My name is Jakaro but I go by Jack."
Chapter Six
The words spilled across my betraying tongue and the level of alarm I instantly felt made the hairs on my neck stand up on end. Why did I tell her my given name? I know next to nothing about this woman or what she is. There is power in knowing someone’s true name and I had just handed her the keys to the front door.
“Now that is a name I have never heard before. Jakaro…”
She said my name and I casually looked around to insure that we were alone.
“Yes, my grandparents were from the old country and my mother against her mother’s wishes married my father, a dark haired and blue eyed Scandinavian. “
“Jakaro…” she said it again and I almost told her nicely to stop.
“Yes Brianna?” I asked and delivered to her my subtle hint.
“Yes, exactly. I like Jack better as well. Well Jack, go have a seat at the little table over there and I will see what I can whip up for you.” Dread filled me, I knew it would happen any minute and the little flame of hope I felt growing within me would be extinguished. I should just walk away and never look back.
The table was clean and the chairs were comfortable. There were three in all and each was placed against the large wall of windows. The interior white of the light, provided a reflection of myself and the entire view behind me. It had been a longtime since I had relaxed enough to gaze upon my own reflection. An unexpected tingle of paranoia crept upon me and I had the odd sensation that someone, in the shadowy recess across the street, was watching me. It was a ridiculous sensation, even if there was someone watching they were more than likely watching Brin. I wasn’t sure I liked that idea either.
I turned and put my back to the window. I would rather watch her preparing my sandwich anyway. Her movements were controlled and precise and I was once again impressed by the way she handled the carving knife.
“You are very good with that knife.” I said and she stuck it upright into the cutting board.
“I should be I’ve been working here almost my entire life. My grandfather opened the place just after the depression and my father eventually took it over from him. I, of course, eventually took it over from my father.”
“Very nice!” I complimented and wondered if that made her a McGuilicutty’s.
“It pays the bills, and yes, if you were wondering that does make my last name McGuilicutty.” She pulled the words out of my head and I wondered even more so about the woman I had just given my true name.
She switched tactics and focused the conversation once more on me.
“So Jack, what line of work do you do?”
I am a Reaper; I reap the souls of women just like you.
“I am in the repossession business.” I once again responded without considering my words more carefully.
“Reap-ossession…I bet that is an interesting line of work.” And the way she said it sounded exactly how you think it did. I might have heard her wrong or maybe my imagination was just getting the best of me. But it did sound like she said Reap.
“It has its moments.”
The bells on the door jingle and a tall pointy nosed woman with a well coiffed head of blond hair entered the place. As her foot made its first impact with the linoleum floor Brin’s voice rang out.
“Sorry, we’re closed. I just haven’t turned the sign around.”
The woman stopped mid step and she glanced around the room. “Oh I see.” she replied as her eyes went to the sign.
“Sorry have a good night.” Brin said dismissively and the woman upon hearing Brin’s tone of voice accepted that she was not going to talk her way into a last minute bite to eat. The bells jingled and we were once again alone.
“Oh, did you want anything to drink with this, maybe some chips?”
“No, just the sandwich will be fine.”
She pulled out a length of white butcher paper and deftly wrapped then secured with a strip of masking tape my mystery sandwich.
I stood and approached the end of the counter to the cash register.
“Do I get a hint as to the surprise awaiting me?” I asked as I pulled a twenty from my wallet.
“Nope.” She said and quoted me the price.
“Good, I like surprises.” I said and it came out a little creepier than I had intended. Her hand slid across and the tips of her fingers hesitated on the corner of the bill.
“So, as I stand here…I….” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say next…I wasn’t very good at this part and it was showing. It had been a very long time since I had wanted to spend time with a mortal woman. I clambered for the words. “Let me try this again…”
She cashed out my twenty and I saw her eyebrow once again arch in that bemused expression. She wasn’t going to make this easy for me. I almost stopped.
“Did you happen to see that they have a special going on at the coffee house down the block?”
She stopped making my change and tilted her head to the side. Her brow furrowed just the slightest bit and I felt the hope inside me begin to die. I had found a woman that would not forget me and I screwed it up. Damn it.
Besides that, did I really think someone as enchanting as her would be interested in a guy like me?
She handed me back my change and I watched the look on her face shift between doubt and a question she wanted to ask. I glanced
at her hands and saw no sign of a wedding band or an engagement ring.
“Jack, before I answer, I want to ask you something.”
“Ok.” I tried to go over where I had made my mistake. “Ask.” I said and tried to remain undeterred.
“This only happens once and awhile and I find that I am more than partly to blame for it.”
Please don’t tell me you are a man…
There are guys who are into that sort of thing but I am not one of them…please don’t be a dude.
Waiting on the edge of my proverbial seat for her to finish, I kept my expression neutral as she shifted uncomfortably. Please don’t be a man.
“Jack, did you noticed that I am blind?” She asked.
And I heard “You do know I am a man right?”
Damn it…
WAIT!!! What did she say?
She didn’t say she was a man.
She said she was blind.
I am a freaking idiot. I thought back to my last question….yep, I am an idiot. I recovered well though and made the best of my situation. It all makes perfect sense now. That’s why the spell doesn’t work on her.
“Ok then, I will take that as a “No” about the coffee shop and to answer your question….No, I did not realize that you were blind but that does not stop me from wanting to take you out for a cup of coffee. If you are still interested?”
She smiled and readjusted the tilt of her head and the eyebrow once again arched.
“That was an elegant and respectable recovery there…” she responded and continued with another question of her own. “I have to ask you one more thing though…and you really don’t get a choice about this one…you’re not a serial killer are you Jack?”
If she had asked me anything else I would not have been as surprised as I was at that moment. The woman had something eerily uncanny about her and I really wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what that was.
