by Silver, Ruth
“That was odd,” Leila muttered, no longer able to see the gentleman among the other patrons. Larkin carried two beers back to the table.
“Who was that?” Larkin asked.
“I have no idea. He came over to comment on you and then told us to have a fun night.”
Larkin laughed. “He seemed friendly enough. I say we take his suggestion and have an amazing time together.”
“You would.” Leila wanted to ignore the nagging feeling that something was amiss. What could she do about it though? He hadn't called her by name. There was no way he knew she was Princess Ophelia; she would be fine. She reached across the table and grabbed her beer, taking a swig. The bubbles tingled her lips and warmed her cheeks. “We should do this more often.”
“You mean sneaking out twice a week isn't enough for you? I told you, I'm happy to meet your father. Clear the air and let him know we're courting.”
Leila sipped her beer and choked on his words, putting the glass down on the table. “I'm not ready for that yet.” She would never be ready to tell her father that she loved Larkin. King Philip would have him beheaded. He wouldn't care that Larkin hadn't known she was the princess, not even his innocence could save him.
“Well, please let me know when you are ready.” Larkin sipped his beer, the froth leaving a slight mustache on his upper lip.
Leila grinned and leaned forward, wiping it away with her thumb. “I will.” She looked away with a nervous laugh. “I need to uh, use the latrine.” She excused herself, scooting back from the table.
“Do you want an escort?”
“No sense in both of us freezing to death.”
Leila waded through the crowd, bumping into a few patrons on her way out the door. She stepped outside into the cold night air, pulling her cloak tighter around her chest. She was freezing. Shivering, she walked toward the outhouse. It was dark and difficult to see. Usually a lantern hung from the back porch, giving off a fair amount of light, but it was extinguished tonight. “Hello?”
Something felt strangely off, but Leila couldn't place it. She walked blindly toward the latrine, feeling around the trees for the wooden door to the outhouse. Locating it, her hand grasped the cold metal handle as a heavy hand covered her lips preventing her from screaming.
Leila opened her mouth and bit down hard on the man’s hand. She gasped for breath and shrieked, hoping someone would hear her. With an elbow, she jabbed the perpetrator’s stomach, attempting to loosen his grasp. Rushing forward, she slammed her hand into the wooden outhouse, feeling a splinter pierce her skin. It was nothing compared to the horror of being attacked. Her pulse raced, and sweat beaded her brow. She couldn’t think, only react. Her feet slipped on the dried crinkled leaves as she punched the man in the throat; he grunted and kicked her feet out from under her. Leila fell face first in the dirt. She felt his dark presence above her. “Please, no! I’m the princess! I have money, I can give you whatever you need.” Had the stranger known who she was, would he have attacked her? A jagged knife sliced across her throat. In an instant, Ophelia Dacre was dead.
Ophelia took two steps back away from her corpse, her chest heaving. “What just happened?” The darkened figure took off in the opposite direction. “Get back here!” she shouted and found herself unable to catch her breath. She hyperventilated. This could not be happening. It wasn't real. It must be a horrible dream. She pinched her arm but didn't wake up.
“Hell of a way for a princess to die.” The older gentleman stepped out from the shadows, his feet crunching on leaves. “It's your lucky day though.”
“Lucky?” She wanted to cry. Tears wouldn't come though. She was angry. “I'm dead!” she croaked, seeing herself lying facedown on the ground.
“Technically, your body is deceased. Your soul is another factor.”
“My what?” Ophelia’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Your soul. You know the body and the soul. The thing that makes you human.”
“I don't believe in God.” She'd given up believing when her mother was murdered in Ophelia's bedroom. A guard had betrayed the kingdom for a small bag of gold he never would see.
“Listen, kid, I don't care what you believe in. It's not for me to say what's true and untrue, real or unreal. My assignment was you. You get to be one of us, if you want it. Otherwise, you move on, life is over, kaput.”
Ophelia backed away from the stranger. For the first time, she realized she didn't feel cold and wasn't shivering. Is this what being dead was like? “One of you?”
“A grim reaper.” He held out his hand to properly introduce himself. “Edon Montgomery, head reaper and old soul.”
“You're joking.” Ophelia was not laughing.
“The oldest soul in our region. Anyways, you can choose to be one of us, reap souls for the next two or three hundred years, and see all you would have missed, or you can move on.”
“Two or three hundred years?” The thought of living another lifetime or two thrilled her. There was a lot she hadn’t seen or done; it was a second chance.
“It's a rough estimate. We don't ever know when our own number is up. It's a sort of gamble, if you will. You reap souls, you play by the rules, and we assume we get a ride to Heaven. Maybe Hell, if you're a rule-breaking reaper.” Edon laughed.
Was he making a joke out of this whole scenario? Ophelia had just died and Edon was laughing. This was not funny to her.
“It's not fair. I've been good. I was always nice to my sister. I was a good daughter. I don't deserve to die. Can't you take someone else instead of me?” She tried to plead her case, make the reaper see something he hadn’t before.
“Death is non-transferrable, kid. Once you're dead, you're dead.”
“So, I'm dead.” She restated the obvious. “I mean if I become a grim reaper, I won't have a heartbeat, I can't feel the cold or snowflakes anymore?” It didn’t sound that great.
Edon smiled. “Who said anything about not feeling the cold? Trust me, kid, it's freezing outside.” He tugged on the edge of his scarf. “You think I wear this just for show?”
“I don't know.” She couldn't believe this was really happening. It felt like a horrible nightmare that she couldn't wake up from.
“There are a few rules that you must abide by, and the first is no communication with your family. The past is the past. You can't go back to visit them. Bad things happen when you do. You hear me?”
Ophelia heard him, but she didn't believe the words. She could still be there for Mara. Life didn't have to be over. She could find out who killed her, and why. She needed closure and this was the only way to get it. “I'll do it. I'll reap the dead or whatever you need from me.”
“It's not that simple.” Edon led her away from the tavern. “You have to sign the contract, and that's back at the asylum.”
“The what?” Her heart would have skipped a beat, had she still been alive.
“Don't stress. It's really not a big deal.” Edon untied the white horse and climbed on.
Larkin stepped outside of the tavern, and Ophelia ran toward him. “Larkin!” she screamed, shuddering as he ran right through her body. She was a ghost.
“Have you seen Leila?” Larkin asked Edon as he walked toward the side of the building.
“Can't say I have. Have a good night.”
Once Larkin was out of sight, Edon reached down and grabbed Leila's arm. He pulled her onto the back of the horse with him as he took off from the scene of the crime.
“You have to take me back!” Ophelia slammed her fists into his back. He seemed to be the only one capable of seeing and feeling her existence.
“That's why there's no communication with your previous life,” he said into the wind. He held the reins of the horse as they moved swiftly through the forest. “Besides, he couldn't see you or hear you, Ophelia.” It was the first time he'd called her by name. “How do you think you'll be able to communicate with him?”
“You could tell him for me.” She doubted he would,
but he was her last chance.
“Right. That will go over so well. Me speaking for a dead girl. I don't think so.”
Dawn broke over the horizon. “We're here.” Edon climbed off the horse.
“What time is it?” Ophelia didn't feel tired. She didn't feel much of anything physically. Emotionally though, her fears and feelings were intact. She was beyond nervous as she looked at what Edon had referred to as the asylum. It was every bit as creepy as it sounded. Covered in three stories of beige and red bricks, it could be classified as a haunted house.
“It's just after nine.”
“Where is here, exactly?” It looked like a way station to Hell.
“The asylum. Nestled in the southwest of Vera. We offer free room and board. Plus, I have a nice cozy office on the top floor.”
Ophelia knew of Vera. It was a large peaceful country just south of her homeland. They were mostly known for farming, a quiet culture without a king. She wasn’t privy to their innermost politics, but she knew an alliance between Vera and Casmerelda had been born nearly one hundred years ago.
“You expect me to stay here?” Could this day get any worse? Just yesterday she was at home in the warmth of the castle, studying with a tutor. Now, she was dead!
“Consider your payment to be retirement when you're done. For now, you live here at the asylum, or you bunk up like Violetta and Emblyn, in reaper housing.”
“I'll take the second option.” She didn't care who Violetta and Emblyn were. She could get along with anyone if it meant not living in the creepy asylum. Ophelia hesitated. She didn't even want to step foot inside.
“We don't have all day. They're waiting for us.” He unlocked the door and stepped inside, waiting for Ophelia to follow him.
“This is a new kind of hell. One for the living,” she said under her breath. Her eyes moved over the locked rooms and she followed closely behind Edon. “Is this really where crazy people go?” She'd heard of an asylum, but had never seen one, let alone stepped foot inside one.
“I wouldn't use that word around here.” Edon kept his voice barely above a whisper. “Just stick with me, and you'll be fine.” He unlocked the back stairwell and led her up to the third floor. “This way.” He gestured toward the end of the hallway, insisting she follow. He pulled out another key, unlocking the door to a small room. Papers were askew on a desk in the corner. A bookshelf perched against a wall, filled with hand-written texts. Ophelia wanted to reach out and touch the books. He had acquired more books than years she lived. Three giant windows offered light into the room. Ophelia stepped inside. It looked far less frightening than the outside of the building, or even the first floor. So, this was a grim reaper’s office.
Two girls waited on the sofa, talking quietly to one another. The closest one looked frightening, dressed all in black with black eyeliner and matching lipstick.
“Violetta Mercier, I'd like you to meet Ophelia Dacre.”
“Wow.” Violetta held out her hand. Ophelia hesitated before taking it. Apparently, she could interact with all grim reapers, just not the living. “So, it's true. The princess really is dead. Such a shame.” Violetta glanced back at the blonde girl. “Told you there wasn't another Ophelia Dacre.” She met Ophelia’s eyes again. “I was looking forward to you reigning over the kingdom. I guess this means your sister Mara will have some actual responsibility when she gets older.”
“Don't you dare talk about my sister!” Ophelia snapped.
“Or what?” Violetta grinned. “You can't do anything to me. I'm already dead, in case you've forgotten. So are you.”
Ophelia turned toward Edon, hoping he'd put an end to this discussion. He got the hint. “Violetta, Is this some part of initiation?” He gestured toward her dark eye makeup. “Try not to scare the poor girl on her first day.”
“Would I ever do that?” Violetta placed a hand over her heart. Did she have a pulse? Ophelia would find out soon enough. In her current form, she didn't breathe, and she couldn't eat. The only folks she could interact with were other reapers.
Edon ignored the question. “Emblyn Vernon, come over here,” Edon said and sighed. “Looks like the boys are late, again.”
Emblyn rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “It's nice to meet you.” She shot a look at Edon. “Now can we get out of here, please? This place always gives me the creeps.”
“Me too,” Violetta said.
“I'm coming with you.” Ophelia inched closer toward the two grim reapers. She had no intention of spending an additional minute in the asylum.
Violetta grinned. “You didn't tell her, Edon? The first week has to be spent at the asylum.”
“Wait! You're leaving me here, alone?” Ophelia was not spending the night in this place. She’d sooner sleep among spiders in a cellar.
Violetta smiled warmly. “Not alone. The groundskeeper is one of us.”
“I'm not worried. I'm terrified.” Ophelia doubted that the groundskeeper was the only soul on the property. She didn’t care whether they were living or undead; she didn’t want to spend a moment longer than necessary there. “Come on, you have to help me out. Please. Edon, you said I didn't have to stay here. I'd rather die than spend a night in this place.”
Violetta laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Emblyn glanced at Violetta. “You’re cruel.”
The door squeaked and two boys entered the small room. “Sorry we're late.” The younger one said. He looked to be about sixteen. He had black hair, albeit slightly messy, but he was cute. The other boy was a few inches taller and brunette. Were they both reapers? Ophelia held her tongue.
Edon cleared his throat. “When are you two ever on time? Ophelia, I'd like you to meet Jasper Elers and Wynter Gael. They are the other half of our reaper team.”
Ophelia locked eyes on Wynter, he was the younger of the two. “Reaper team?” She was trying to keep track of everything but there was a lot to learn.
Jasper walked over to Violetta and handed her a single black rose. “For you.”
Violetta took the flower and rolled her eyes. “Your charm doesn't work on me.”
Ophelia could swear she saw a faint blush creeping onto Violetta's pale cheeks. Was he flirting with her?
Wynter held out his hand to Ophelia. “It's nice to meet you.”
Ophelia politely shook his hand and averted her gaze. She hated how everyone kept staring at her. It was different now that she was dead. She felt strange, like a part of her was missing.
Emblyn stood up and walked over, wrapping an arm around Ophelia's shoulder. “You're staying with us. Violetta was just messing with you. After you sign the contract and become a full-bodied reaper, we can go home.”
“A what?” Ophelia asked.
Jasper walked over to Ophelia. “You didn't think you'd still be Princess Ophelia, did you? Every neighboring kingdom knows who you are. The minute they saw you’re alive, it would change everything.”
“I'm confused.” Ophelia hoped someone would elaborate.
“Your soul stays intact, but the body you'll be in will be different.” Wynter reached for Ophelia's hand, resting it over his chest. “Do you feel that?” He had kind eyes and a warm smile.
Ophelia nodded. He had a steady heartbeat. “But you're dead?”
“We're undead, technically, but the human body can't sustain a soul without a working heart, lungs, you get the idea. We're not zombies. We're real people. We just have the ability to reap a person's soul when they die, so they can move on.”
“Oh,” Ophelia said.
“You're still confused,” Wynter guessed. “Let's start from the beginning. Every living thing dies: plants, animals, people. Our job is to keep those from suffering when they pass. Do you remember how you died?”
“I was murdered,” Ophelia said, disgusted.
“Yes, but did you feel it?” Wynter asked.
“No.” She hadn't thought about it earlier.
“That's right, because Edon reaped your s
oul. He released it from your body before the impact of what killed you. Sometimes it's murder. Other times it's suicide, an unfortunate accident, or disease. We deal in all types of death, because there isn't only one way people die.”
“How morbid,” Ophelia said.
“Consider it a service that we perform for the living,” Jasper said. “No one wants to feel pain when they die. We keep them from experiencing it. We also help them transition over to the other side.”
“What's on the other side?” Ophelia asked.
“No one knows. We've never been there. As reapers, we can't go. A few have tried, and no one quite knows where they end up. Our best guess—dead,” Edon said.
“Aren’t we already dead?” Ophelia didn’t understand how someone could die twice.
“Reapers are part of the undead. We’re not like the stories you’ve heard across cultures,” Edon said.
Violetta smiled. “We don’t ride on a chariot transporting souls to the underworld, or wear a black cloak, unless you want to make one.”
“Forget everything you know about grim reapers, Ophelia. Humans have it wrong. It’s easier to believe in angels and demons, than to see what’s right in front of you. Who wants to believe the undead walk among us with beating hearts? It would frighten humans. It would probably send many to their graves faster,” Edon said.
Ophelia was trying to keep track of everything. No visiting her family. She had to learn a new job—reaping. No stealing a ride with the dying.
“There's more. This is just a taste of the beginning. If you're going to agree to the full terms of the contract, you'll have to sign.” Edon pulled out a blank scroll. After a moment, words appeared on the page like magic. He handed Ophelia a pen. “Sign here, and you'll receive your new identity.”
“I won't be Princess Ophelia Dacre anymore?”
“You can be Leila,” Edon said. “I know that was the name you used with Larkin. But not Dacre. You will need a new surname. Leila Bele.”
Ophelia took the ink quell and signed the scroll. She watched the signature sparkle and sizzle before the writing vanished from the page.
