School of Deaths

by Christopher Mannino

  “I’m sure Suzie will be fine,” said Hann.

  “Hell, the poor soul will take one look at Billy’s face and get freaked out. They’ll tear themselves right off their corpse. Suzie won’t even need a scythe.”

  Suzie was used to mockery and hated watching Billy suffer it. He looked at his feet while a few Deaths chuckled.

  “That’s enough, Luc,” warned Hann.

  Frenchie put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and shook his head. He glanced at her, but she looked away.

  “The Reaping begins tomorrow,” said Hann. “Same groups, but the first years will do the actual act. This will be your only Reaping for this year. Make it count. Should any of you pass your Final Test, you will never have to Reap again. A year of your life traded for a single reaped soul. Of course, none of you will pass.”

  I will. And I’ll bring down Sindril before I go.

  * * * *

  “You ready?” asked Billy. He wore a mask over his face, showing only his eyes. He had insisted on covering his face to help the soul feel at ease. If they were transporters, they didn’t want to frighten their passenger.

  “You can do this,” said Frank. His calm manner reassured her. He looked at her with his deep brown eyes and freckled face. She nodded and straightened the sleeves of her black robe.

  She walked to Hann who stood in the center of the class. He handed her a long scythe, even taller than she was. It was light in her hand; the handle danced with energy. The blade slid through the air like sunlight through water. Life flowed down from the blade, coursing through the handle, sending tingles into her arm. Sweat beaded in her palms and trickled from her forehead.

  “Let the scythe do the work,” reminded Hann, “and you’ll be fine.”

  She nodded and walked back to her group. She tied herself to Frank and Billy using a tether. Then she held the scythe in her hands and paused.

  This was ridiculous. She was a thirteen-year-old girl, a kid from Maryland, holding a scythe. Not some costume piece, but an actual, working scythe. Now she, Suzie, was supposed to Reap a soul. Even her mysteries with Sindril and the Dragon Key suddenly seemed trivial.

  “Good luck,” said Frank.

  She adjusted her grip and adjusted again. The tingles in the scythe grew stronger, itching her hands and arms. It’s ready. It wants to swing; to do its job. She moved her hands a third time and Frank glanced at Billy. Billy adjusted his mask.

  “What’s the matter,” taunted Luc behind her. “Is the little girl scared?”

  She clutched the handle and let the blade fall. She hardly moved, but the blade shot downward, slicing air, light, heat, even thought. For an instant, her arm was on fire and the world vanished into darkness.

  The smell of strawberries exploded around her as color, form, and details blurred into a single, unending stream of confusion. She heard the sound of screams in the distance, and tears. The scythe pulled her down, down, down between the worlds. She slipped past the twin suns of the In-Between and watched the Mortal World approaching. On the edge of her vision, she glimpsed two bright pools of green fire.

  “You grow stronger every day,” said the eyes. “But the greatest challenge is yet to come.”

  She tried to turn, but the scythe pulled her onward. She coursed through stars and space, beyond time and emotion. Lighter than a daydream, she slipped through a crevice: the gap between light and shadow. The blade twisted, finding its way.

  A face appeared before her: an elderly man she didn’t recognize. Somehow, she sensed a name: Elias Stoneridge.

  She landed hard, stumbling as her feet hit a tiled floor. Beads of white light trickled off the blade.

  For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. She heard beeps and the slow intake of air.

  Frank patted her on the shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember, don’t let anyone else see us,” said Frank, looking around the hospital room.

  Certified Deaths received special robes to help avoid mortal eyes. Ironically, the Deaths who’d inspired tales of the Grim Reaper throughout the ages had been students like her. Students and ones who didn’t make it back. She shuddered, remembering her skeletal appearance. It seemed long ago.

  A man lay in a bed, connected to an array of tubes and machines. Suzie walked to the foot of his bed and read the name on his chart. “Elias Stoneridge.” The scythe quivered in her hand. The handle pulsed like a beating heart, or was that only her own heartbeat? No, the blade felt the soul, it was hungry.

  “It’s his time,” said Frank, patting her on the shoulder. “Quickly, before someone comes.”

  Elias’s eyes stared at her, but he seemed to look through her. He gasped for air and the machines behind the bed beeped.

  “A nurse is coming,” said Billy, glancing into the hallway. “She’s only a few doors down.”

  Suzie didn’t have time to think, but in a way, she didn’t have to. She didn’t even swing; she relaxed her muscles and stopped fighting the scythe. The blade leapt downward, straight through Elias Stoneridge. As it struck the weak stranger, she felt a strange sensation as the blade swam through the soul. For an instant, she swore she heard chewing, not from Elias, but from the blade itself. The scythe continued down through the floor, before swinging around. It pulled on her, jerking her into a stumble.

  Elias sat up, his eyes wide with fear. His body lay on the bed and the machine let out a long, droll beep. The scythe tingled again.

  “About time,” said the soul of Elias Stoneridge. “Past few days have been awful. What kept you?”

  “Sorry?” said Suzie.

  “Quick, quick,” said Billy.

  The beeping and hiss of tubes grated on her. The blade at the end of her scythe turned slightly. Had she turned? No, the scythe was ready to go on. The tingling in the handle started to itch. Billy tugged on one of the tethers and waved his hands, telling her to hurry.

  “Take my hand, please,” said Suzie.

  “You lot are dressed a bit dark for angels. And where’re your wings?”

  “Please, Mr. Stoneridge,” said Suzie. “We have to go.” She felt her strength failing her. She could barely stand. She was Reaping a soul. An old man she’d never heard of. A man she was taking from his family. She was taking him away to never come back.

  Elias turned and peered at himself. “I am dead, right?”

  “We are Deaths,” said Frank. “And we’re here to take you onward.”

  “Deaths?” Elias laughed. “You mean like the skeletal guy on the lunchboxes? You bunch of kids? Don’t they teach angels better’n to lie?”

  “Now, Suzie,” said Billy.

  The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. She screamed and collapsed on the floor. Frank pushed Suzie’s hand into Stoneridge’s. The soul felt warm, but at least she could hold it. She let the scythe drop and the hospital vanished.

  The ride back was agonizing.

  Colors tore through her like swords, tearing through her, clawing the ghostly soul from her fingers. She clenched her hand, but felt Elias slipping away. No, she couldn’t lose him yet. No. Smells, sights, sounds, and sensations bombarded her in a whirlwind of confusion.

  Two suns became two eyes of green flame, but they said nothing. Darkness clashed with light in a roar, and the student Deaths slipped between the lines of dreams. Suzie plummeted upward and downward, trying to break free. She held on as the manic scythe blade tore through time and space.

  A whirlwind of confusion.

  A world of lies.

  Cool grass slid beneath her shoes, and beads of light dripped from the blade again.

  “That was fun,” said Elias Stoneridge. “But let’s not do it again.”

  Behind her, the cliff soared impossibly high, cutting off half the world. The ocean stretched in front of her, flowing away toward the upward-flowing waterfall. The great iron doors in the center were closed, yet she knew Elias would be able to enter.

  She’d only been h
ere once before, but the place was unforgettable. The end of all things: the door to the Hereafter.

  “Well if it isn’t the bitch and her pups,” shouted a voice. She spun around and Luc came toward her. He led a soul of his own, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair.

  “Not now,” she heard Frenchie say.

  “I’ll bet you botched it up already, didn’t you Suzie?” taunted Luc. She didn’t answer, though in truth he was right, they’d been seen.

  “Finish the Reaping,” said Frank softly. “Ignore them.”

  “How many Deaths we got here?” asked Elias. “Way I figure, you only need one.”

  “Mr. Stoneridge, you need to—”

  Luc walked over, guiding the blonde woman. She looked like she’d been crying.

  “That way,” said Luc, pointing with his scythe. “Go die. You, too, old man.”

  “I want to—” started the woman. Luc smacked her. She started walking across the water. Elias said nothing, but clutched Suzie’s hand.

  “You gonna let him go?” asked Luc. “Or do I have to do it for you?” He raised his scythe.

  “That’s enough,” said Frenchie, leaping forward. He pulled a dagger from his cloak and slashed at his younger brother. Luc vanished in a cloud of dust.

  “I’m sorry,” said Frenchie. He stepped away and Frank glared at him. Something glinted in Frank’s hand. Did he have a dagger too?

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” said Suzie, trying to apologize to Elias. He smiled and bent down, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Most fun I’ve had in years, little angel. Er, Death. But I do think I’ll be going now. Someone’s waiting for me on the other side.”

  Suzie blushed and wiped away a tear as the old man walked across the water and entered the massive iron door. The door vanished and the scythe relaxed in her grip.

  “What the Hell was that about?” demanded Frank. He pushed Frenchie, knocking the taller boy back a step.

  “I stopped him,” said Frenchie.

  “Your brother raised his scythe. He was going to strike her.”

  “I told you, I stopped him,” said Frenchie. “Suzie, can I talk to you in private?”

  “Anything you have to say, you say in front of us,” said Frank. Billy nodded.

  “I’m gonna head back and talk to Hann,” said the other boy on Frenchie’s team. The short, wiry boy was still tied to Frenchie’s waist with a tether. The third tether hung limply.

  “I’ll be back soon, Mark,” said Frenchie. “Don’t let him go easy on Luc.”

  Mark nodded and pulled a dagger from his robe. Its blade was curved, like a small scythe. Mark nicked himself and vanished in a puff of smoke.

  “We all have ’em,” explained Frank. “The older students have to carry them on Reapings in case of an emergency. They send you straight back to Hann.”

  “It’s only us now, Frenchie,” said Billy. “Start talking.”

  “I’m sorry for what he did. Luc shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s your fault,” said Billy. “You’ve been egging him on.”

  “I’m trying to apologize.” He paused, and Suzie sensed a great deal of turmoil in his expression. The way he looked at her, with longing in his gaze, like Billy’s looks before he kissed her. Or was that how she imagined him?

  “Spit it out,” said Frank.

  “You don’t understand,” said Frenchie. “When I first came two years ago, it was hard enough, but you can’t imagine what it felt like to meet him here. My own brother. In the World of the Dead.”

  “You set him against Suzie?” asked Frank. “You had no right—”

  “Everyone was against Suzie at the beginning. She was different. She was…convenient.”

  “Convenient?” asked Frank. “A nice target for you and your friends to bully? Is that what you mean?”

  “It wasn’t personal,” said Frenchie. “She let me turn my anger somewhere. I was beyond anger. They brought two brothers here.”

  “We’re all angry,” said Suzie. “None of us want to be here. You had no right to treat me poorly. You’ve been picking on me the whole year. What have I ever done to you?”

  Frenchie’s mouth tightened. “Nothing.” He looked at the ground.

  “Say that again,” demanded Frank.

  “I said it once,” said Frenchie. “But whether she did or didn’t, my brother sort of snapped after try-outs. He wanted to literally kill you. He’s not normally like this. Luc’s a good kid.”

  “You hadn’t seen him in two years,” said Frank. “Maybe he’d changed.”

  “Maybe,” muttered Frenchie, looking away. “He lost me. For years, I was gone. He’d probably given up, convinced I was dead and then finds me here. Whatever my disappearance did to Mom and Dad, he saw firsthand. I can’t imagine what’s going on in his head.” Frenchie paused and looked up. Tears wet his eyes. Frenchie, who’d she always thought of as an enemy. This Death was only a boy after all, a scared and angry little boy. She pitied him.

  “Listen,” said Frenchie, “I’m not saying I did the right thing. I’m saying I’m sorry.”

  “Tell your brother to lay off,” said Billy.

  “He won’t listen, but I’ll try. I’ll catch you guys later.” He pulled out his dagger and hesitated.

  “I might still act mean at times,” he said, “but don’t listen. You’re not a bitch, no matter what they say.” He nicked himself and vanished.

  “No matter what you say, you mean,” muttered Billy.

  “C’mon,” said Frank, “the Reaping’s done, let’s head back.”

  “We were seen,” said Suzie. “Hann will know, won’t he?”

  “Probably. But it happens every year.” Frank smiled. “They expect it. They used to let the first years have their Reaping right around Halloween, in case the living spotted them. Of course, the teachers complained because it was too much to cram in. Now they chalk it up to pranks or insanity. Not our problem.”

  “Hann will be annoyed,” said Billy, “and as much as Frank downplays it, it’s not good. Yet in your case, I wouldn’t worry. He had Deaths sent back early.” He took out his own small dagger. “Hann himself told us that they haven’t had to use these in over a hundred years. He’s got bigger things to deal with today.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Scent

  Hann hadn’t been distracted, he’d been furious. For two weeks after the Reaping he didn’t even speak. A chubby Death named Professor Rayn discussed the need for absolute discipline during a Reaping. It was unconscionable, Rayn said, to interfere with a Reaping. If Reaping was a Death’s primary role, to interfere with that role was almost as bad as slaying another Death.

  Suzie felt conflicted. On the one hand, she was grateful Hann hadn’t singled her out, and was instead punishing Luc’s behavior. On the other, she was petrified. They couldn’t even practice with the scythes. During two classes, Sindril himself had come in and scolded the class.

  The only Death who seemed unfazed by the change in the class was Luc. Every day, Suzie came to Hann’s class, sat, and listened as Rayn scolded them. Suzie glanced at Billy or Frank, but no one said a word. The class never moved or spoke until the period was over. The next day, they’d repeat everything. Hann stared at each of them, every day, sitting to the side of his desk. He never said a word, and never looked at Rayn or Sindril. He seemed totally lost.

  He wasn’t the only one who was lost.

  Four months after Styxia, they were no closer to starting the plan.

  “That was painful,” said Frank as they left Hann’s class. “How much longer can this go on?”

  “Who is Rayn anyway?” asked Billy. “Why does he have to come in and lecture us?”

  “Rayn? He’s got nowhere else to be lately,” said a third year named Jeff. “Since Styxia that is.”

  “What do you mean since Styxia?” asked Suzie.

  “Rayn’s the College expert on ’Mentals. With the ’Mentals gone, there’s not
hing for him to do except play the disciplinarian. They assume Hann didn’t get through to us, and that an extra scolder will help. If I find out who messed up a Reaping, I’ll kick ’em right in the nuts.”

  Suzie kept her mouth shut. Hann had never mentioned Luc, or even told the class exactly what happened. At first, she considered telling her classmates, but what was the point? Besides, if they discovered what Luc had done, eventually they’d find out she’d been seen.

  “Rayn’s a ’Mental expert?” asked Billy.

  “That’s what Joey said. He had a class with him, but it’s suspended now. Seems they don’t want to think about ’Mentals here. Not after what happened.” Jeff shrugged and turned a corner.

  Suzie glanced at Billy but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wore his mask daily now, hiding the disfigured face.

  “Meeting. Nine,” she muttered. He nodded and walked away.

  * * * *

  “We need to ask Rayn for help,” said Suzie, “to find out where the ’Mentals are. The Final Test is in six weeks. We do this now, or not at all.”

  Her eyes adjusted to the dim, dusty white light of the flowers in the library. A spider crawled across the table, and she flicked it away. It scampered under a book.

  “What do we say when he asks why?” asked Billy. “What if he tells Sindril?”

  “We have to take that risk. We have nothing, and I’m sick of going nowhere. I’m going to ask him tomorrow after class.”

  “No,” said Frank. “I’ll ask. You stand out too much Suzie. I’m just another Death.”

  “This is my fight,” she said. “I’m the one who got you into this. I’m the one Sindril targeted, and Athanasius said I’m the one they’re trying to keep safe. I’ll ask.”

  “Frank’s right,” said Billy. “If one of us asks where the ’Mentals live, we at least stand a chance of Rayn not noticing.”

  They were right. They had to be cautious.

  “Not Frank,” she said. “It has to be a first year asking an entirely innocent question. To help with—”

  “An art project,” said Jason. “I see where you’re going.”

  “But why—” started Frank.