Reaper (Lightbringer)

by K. D. McEntire

  Frowning, Lily glanced at Elle, who shrugged. Piotr raised a questioning eyebrow, a silent signal to indicate do what you want. Lily nodded briefly in return and stepped aside with the older woman.

  “Wonder what that's all about,” the man said, gesturing left and right to the others at the table. “Women, huh? Have a seat, son, have a seat. The rest of you? Do me a favor and scram for a bit. Thanks.”

  Following Ada's lead, the others nodded in Piotr's direction as, one by one, they rose and drifted into the crowd. Piotr glanced over his shoulder; Lily's conversation was done. Ada sashayed away, being stopped every few feet by other ghosts who wished to speak with her. Lily returned to the table.

  Uneasily, Piotr settled into Ada's abandoned seat.

  “Watch it, flyboy,” Elle whispered, leaning in too close, her cheek pressed against his own, and her breath tickling his ear. “Ada's got her eye on you and that ain't exactly good, if you catch my drift.”

  “Da,” Piotr murmured back, making note of the men in the crowd nearby who paused to watch Elle lean forward and look their fill while she was otherwise occupied. Elle was a big girl, but she wasn't the type to appreciate people getting fresh with her unless she initiated it. “I noticed.”

  Now that they were alone with the man who'd gone to such lengths to meet him, Piotr found himself studying Mr. Morris. Like Ada, he couldn't have been more than thirty-five at the time of his death, sporting a full head of dark, combed back hair and a simple button-up chambray work shirt over a comfortably worn set of jeans. His features were square and regular, but it was the measured look in his eyes that prompted Piotr to sit up straighter, to smooth his own wrinkled white shirt and adjust the crease in his pants.

  “Mr. Morris,” Lily began, but the man held up a hand.

  “Frank, please, my dear sweet dolly,” he said, offering a work-roughened palm to Lily with a wink and a knowing grin. “I let all that ‘Mr. Morris’ crap pass for Ada because she just can't seem to get with the times, you dig it? Half the time she's still roaming around 1842.” He rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “Not that I'm much better, mind.”

  “Indeed,” Lily said stiffly and took his hand, allowing him to turn her knuckles up and press a quick, firm kiss on the back of her hand. She shot Piotr an annoyed glare over Frank's bowed head.

  “Elle, my lovely, I am so sorry for earlier,” Frank continued, sweeping forward past Lily and squeezing both of Elle's hands in his own. “Comfortable, dear? Would you like a drink?”

  Not waiting for her answer, he gestured behind him to a slim black-clad figure Piotr had missed before. The waiter left and returned, setting a squat glass half-filled with eye-watering amber liquid in front of Elle. “I shouldn't—” Elle began.

  “Well, if it's too strong…” Frank said and turned to gesture again for the waiter to take the drink away. Before Piotr could protest, Elle scowled and snatched up the glass. “I didn't say that,” she snapped, catching Frank's eye, and tilted her head back, quaffing the drink in three swallows.

  “Good hootch,” she burped, wiping the back of her hand against her lips. “But I've had better.” Still, despite her bravado, her eyes twinkled, and Piotr was stunned to realize that somehow Frank had managed to make a friend of Elle. He felt a sinking in his gut. He'd counted on Elle being her normal, prickly self to help him get through this unorthodox meeting, but she seemed right at home, tapping her foot to the frantic beat as the jazz band went crazy up on stage.

  Frank turned to Piotr and offered his palm.

  “I am here, you have me,” Piotr said, taking Frank's hand and meeting his eyes with a level gaze. “Now you promise to send no more Walkers into our lands.”

  “Scout's honor, Red. If it's any consolation, it wasn't just Walkers we asked to poke around for you, they just got there first. Sorry that such a nosebleed found you before some reasonable ghost, but none of the Council was up to wandering all over hither and yon waiting for you to show up. We used to know how to put a pin on you, but the territory you Riders staked out for yourselves isn't exactly clear-cut these days.”

  “We have no territory,” Lily said, crossing her arms across her chest. “We have abandoned our ways.” She glanced at Elle. “For the most part.”

  “So little birdies tell me. I thought maybe I'd see what your bit was these days; send in a boy or two to scope the scene, see if you kids felt like making a little mazuma.” He rubbed his fingertips together to make sure they got the point. “A deal, like. A partnership. Since you're out of the saint business now.”

  “You wish to pay us for some deed? After you sent a beast to hunt us down?” Straightening in her seat, Lily's hands clenched into fists. “Your ambassadors are sorely lacking if you wish to bring us into some nature of business arrangement with you.”

  “Hey, hey now!” Frank said, holding up his hands in a genial blocking motion. “You don't have to get your feathers in a ruffle. You're all here and safe, right? What's bugging you?”

  “A boy died,” Piotr explained coldly, thinking of Jamie. “All because you wish to make a deal?”

  “We all die someday,” Frank said reasonably. “I'm not laughing at your loss, Red, but there are more important things going on in the Never than one lost little soul.” Sighing, he leaned forward and tapped the table twice, waiting for the drink to be set before him before he continued. He took a long swallow, wiped his mouth, and said, “Maybe my choice of messenger wasn't the best, yeah? I am sorry about that, but you don't always get the cream of the crop volunteering to do the dirty work.”

  “The Walkers not only killed the boy, they tried to kill Piotr,” Lily continued, quiet and fierce. “Said that it was their orders. That he'd been wandering around the Never long enough.”

  “That's just malarkey,” Frank snapped. “We don't want Red here dead. We need him!” Realizing what he'd said, Frank grimaced and sat back. “Well, I just threw that hand, huh?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Piotr, look kid, I've got a copy of that poster around here somewhere. We offered some prime A-grade salvage for the soul who could get you up to the Top of the Mark for a little chat. That was it. Granted, we didn't specify alive or dead, but it would be an awfully dumb ghost who thought that killing you would be the way to go.”

  “Dead bodies disappear here,” Elle chuckled, waving for another drink, “but some of these souls aren't exactly DaVinci reborn, Frank. Those Walkers might not've thought it through.” When the tuxedo-clad waiter brought it, she sniffed and sipped appreciatively. “Or maybe you should've realized that revenge can run deeper than salvage. Especially when Walkers are concerned.”

  Frank sat back, expression tired. “It's no excuse. It's an explanation. And I can't make what's past undone, but I can promise you—I can give you my utmost word—that if we ever put a bounty out again, I'll make sure to add a ‘no one gets hurt’ addendum.”

  “As you will,” Piotr said, sitting back and rubbing his own eyes. The Never and the living lands were flickering wildly now. The stutter-flash of the brightly lit nightclub and dimly lit restaurant were giving him a headache.

  “So what do you say? Want to ride the roller coaster with me, kids?” Frank spread his hands on the table. “Feel like making a little scratch on a job well done?”

  “Depends on the job,” Elle said lazily. She twirled a finger through her fringe. “Depends on the pay.”

  Frank smiled a chilling grin. “Let's have us a little chat about the Lightbringer.”

  Narrowing his eyes at the older man, Piotr leaned back in his chair. “What about her?”

  “It's come to our attention that you and the Lightbringer have an…understanding.” Keeping his free hand flat on the tabletop where Piotr and the others could see it, Frank lifted his drink and took a deep swallow. “Is this so?”

  Stiffening, Piotr turned his face away. Frank was sharp, too sharp, and Piotr didn't want the Council member to spot the mingled anger and dismay he felt every time Wendy's name was mentio
ned. “I really don't think my friendship with the Lightbringer is any of your business.”

  Leaning over until he was sure Piotr could see him, Frank shook his head. “Ah, son, I get you, but you see it really is my business. My business and her business,” he gestured to Lily, “her business,” he pointed to Elle, “and their business.” Sitting back, he waved a hand at the press of people partying on the level below. “It's all of our business, son.”

  Piotr pushed back from the table. “I'm leaving.”

  “Not so fast, not so fast. Hear me out.” Frank waved a conciliatory hand. “Let me explain, and if you're still feeling partial to taking a hike, I won't try to stop you.”

  “You couldn't,” Elle retorted, suddenly stone cold sober, “since me an’ Lily got his back.”

  “You have his back. Who has yours?” Frank glanced left and right and shadowy figures that had been hidden amid the throng shifted forward. Stomach sinking, Piotr realized that even if they were able to get past these subtle fighters, they wouldn't be able to easily escape. The barely-clad woman and the holy man lounged with arms crossed in front of the closest exits; long, sharp blades were clearly visible in ready fists. The camo-dressed soldier had the next set of doors covered as well.

  Piotr scowled. They'd sent Elle up early to scout for this sort of thing, but Frank was better than they'd given him credit for. Piotr had a sneaking suspicion that Frank's verbal mistake earlier had been a ploy to keep them seated and talking so they could be surrounded. Every exit on this floor was covered and the doors, replaced within the past few decades, were the only spiritually weak spots of the rooftop bar. All the rest was solid even in the Never—they were trapped here at Frank's whim, unable to pass through the walls for a quick getaway.

  “Fine.” Piotr sat back down and scowled at Frank. “Let us speak of the Lightbringer. You begin.”

  Frank chuckled. “That little dolly of yours sure knows how to blow our jets, doesn't she? Here we are, minding our own business, and her mother's hardly in the ground before she starts rattling my cage. Not even a by-your-leave. That's gratitude for you, huh? Her mother, now…Mary was a classy lady, a solid straw boss.”

  “You knew the White Lady?” Elle stiffened.

  Frank scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Not personally, no. By the time Mary was calling herself the ‘White Lady’ I was having no truck with her. But before?” He grinned. “Sure enough. For a broad, Mary was completely pulled together, you dig? We had an arrangement.”

  “I disbelieve,” Piotr said dryly.

  “Believe it. The Council kept all the regular-joe spirits out of her way and pumped full of the will to keep going—off the streets and cookin’ at the bash, in other words—so Mary didn't have to fuss with all that nasty reaping.” Frank waved a hand at the crush below. “In exchange, Mary kept our neck of the woods free of Walkers and came ’round twice a month to clean up those poor souls who'd given in or given up, who'd become Shades. Boss, right? Good deal all around.”

  “Reaping is the duty of the Lightbringer,” Lily said stiffly, crossing her legs and eying Frank's backup closely as she looked around the room. Piotr had the sense that the instant one of them approached, they'd become fast acquaintances with her fists. Lily might be deadly with her daggers, but in their decades together James had taught her more than a thing or two about hand-to-hand. “That the White Lady would renege upon her solemn duty—allowing the likes of the Council to police this area of town in her stead—is truly reprehensible.”

  “Don't get your panties in a twist, girlie,” Frank said smoothly. “Keep in mind that there's a difference between the crazy broad who called herself the White Lady and Mary, the Lightbringer's momma. Mary, now? Mary wasn't reneging nothing. Mary just had her hands full doing other, more important things. For example, did you three ankle-biters know that there's more than one Lightbringer in this great wide Never of ours?”

  “Of course,” Piotr said, bored. “Wendy and her mother. But now this is no longer, it is Wendy alone.”

  “Oh no, son, not even close.” Frank tilted his chair back so he was balanced on the back legs and threaded his hands behind his head. “We're talking a whole battalion of ladies like your little ‘friend.’ Lightbringers? Might as well call ’em Lightslingers! Cousins and aunts and great-grandmothers twice removed, and damn near every last one of them has a vested interest in wiping out the dead. Dead like you, son. Dead like me.”

  “NET!” Piotr snarled, rising to his feet. In his periphery he spotted several of Frank's guards start forward, and both Lily and Elle tensed beside him, fists clenched. “You lie! Wendy would have—”

  “Cool it, Red. Sit down.”

  “I will not—”

  “I said: sit…down.” Frank crossed his arms over his chest and gazed evenly at Piotr until Piotr, irritated and uneasy, settled back in his seat. Frank waved at the men in the crowd and waited until they'd melted back into the mass to continue. The guards on the doors, however, remained.

  “Listen up, Red.” Frank rapped the table with his knuckles. “I'm not claiming that Wendy knows hide or hair about her veritable tribe. Mary was known for backroom deals and playing her cards close to the vest, especially when it came to the old biddies that ran her family. Chances are, she never told little miss lovely a thing about ’em. In fact, I have it on good authority from a little birdie that your Wendy did not, in fact, have a clue from where she hails. She might now, but she didn't before. Dig it?”

  “So the Lightbringer comes from a clan,” Elle sneered, still tense and eying the crowd. “Whoopdy-freaking-doo. What's that got to do with the Riders?”

  “Miss Mary Quite Contrary up and split,” Frank said solemnly. “We've got seventeen years worth of odd-ball souls that should've been sent on ages ago wandering around this city—more than a handful of them starting to slide toward crazy with a vengeance—and a whole peck of Reapers coming home to roost. You all kept your heads so low, I'm not surprised that this is news to you.”

  “Your point?” Piotr asked.

  He buffed his nails on his shirt. “Every sane soul in the Never from Berkeley to Santa Cruz knows through the grapevine that your little miss wasn't trained up proper-like, that she's winging it. If we know that, do you really think her family doesn't? They've got ears with ears plastered to ’em. Spies, Red, and lots of ’em.”

  Lily pursed her lips. “I hardly think it's Wendy's fault if she was not run through the gauntlet. They cannot blame her for Mary's shortcomings. Your words are wind, sir, all you do is blow hot air.”

  “Agreed,” Piotr said, rising. “We need not stay and hear what this zadnitza has to say. From his mouth the truth is as twisted as lies.”

  Frank sneered. “Don't you take that tone with me, Commie Red. I may only be dead a handful of decades but I'm still old enough to lay you flat on your ass, even with the pretty miss here flexing those fingers at me. Oh, and by the way? Get bent.”

  “Enough talk!” Piotr slapped his fist against the table, making the empty glasses rattle. “Tell us what you would, make your offer, and let us take our leave, Frank. I would be done with this foolishness.”

  Frank shrugged. “Fine. It's your funeral.” He tapped the table and waited until Piotr had sat down again to continue on.

  “You've got something we want. You not only know the Lightbringer, you two were…close.”

  Piotr glared but made no comment.

  “Furthermore, Mary and I had a lot of long nights negotiating the territories. We talked. I got to learn more than a little about the way those Lightbringers—Reapers, whatever you wanna call ’em—think. You following me so far, kids?”

  “Boring the hell out of us,” Elle said, faking a yawn, “but we're following.”

  “Fine. I'll speed it up for the shortbus crowd. Your girl Wendy is what's known as a ‘natural’ to her family. The only thing is, naturals aren't natural to them, you dig? They don't cotton to her sort.”

  “You think Wendy is in da
nger,” Lily said, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  Frank shrugged. “Yeah. If they follow tradition, then they're going to put your pal Wendy down like a rabid dog.”

  Piotr jerked and Frank smiled thinly. “Now, normally I couldn't care less about the murder of a ghost-killer, but the Council—hell, every ghost around—got used to things being sort of informal around these parts. We want it to stay that way. We want you to convince the little miss to make the same deal her mother made. That way, everyone's happy.”

  Lily waved a low hand at Piotr under the table, keeping him calm. “Why do you believe she would agree to the same arrangement?”

  “Oh, call it a hunch. Even when the little miss was on her rampage in the autumn, she wasn't too particular about stalking us—just Walkers. The Shades she did outta pure pity, I think.”

  “It is Wendy's way, da,” Piotr agreed, recalling how Wendy fretted over whether or not to send spirits on, if it really was the right thing to do or not.

  “Exactly. If you stayed hidden and minded your P's and Q's, Wendy didn't hunt you down. And at the end, she started only dealing with ghosts that hunted her down, the ones who actively wanted to move on and sniffed her out to make that happen. That's worlds better than how most of her clan used to deal with us.”

  “Da,” Piotr said heavily, pushing back from the table and glaring around the room defiantly. His head was pounding fiercely and it seemed like he'd been in this room, talking with this oily man, for decades. In reality, less than an hour had passed; the restaurant was still stuffed to overflowing with partying dead. “We understand.”

  “Great, Red, you're finally getting with it.” Mimicking Piotr's movement, Frank also pushed away from the table and offered his hand. His eyes were serious and his smile serene. Piotr was unwillingly glad to see the calluses ringing his palm and fingers; Frank might be a cozening man but at least he worked with his hands. Piotr could respect that.

  Frank smiled, catching Piotr eyeing his palm. His expression said that he understood every thought in Piotr's head and was unsurprised by them. “Glad the pair of us could eventually see eye-to-eye. Da, comrade?”