“My heart suffered its biggest break at that moment. I turned and began to run away. I was scolding myself for having the belief that he loved only me. I was angry that he had not waited for me to join him as I had been waiting to do. I was furious that he could touch someone else in the same places he had touched me. I was so blind with my rage that I did not stop to look both ways before crossing the street. I was hit by a delivery van and then tossed onto the windshield of a taxi going in the opposite direction. I was dead as soon as I finally hit the pavement.
“I remember standing outside the scene, still reeling with my anger at what I had seen Dillon doing. I looked at my body, not even caring that I was looking at my own body. A crowd began to gather when I saw Dillon. He was walking toward the corner with his paramour as if they were just chums out for a stroll. I found some bittersweet relief when I watched him approach the scene and look at my body lying crumpled and broken on the street. The blood drained from his face as he ran to my side and began to stroke my face. I couldn’t feel his touch, though. I could only stand there watching him as he began to mourn.
“I was so angry though. I didn’t care that he was hurting inside. I decided at that moment that I didn’t want to see him ever again.”
“But you did,” Brigit guessed. John only nodded. He had paused long enough to take a sip of his tea.
“I spent the next few days wandering back and forth between Dillon’s apartment and the dock where I had landed. I wanted to go home, to Ireland; but I was stuck. It was on the fourth day that Araxius came to me. He offered me a position with the firm. I took it because I knew I wasn’t ready to pass over and Araxius made it very clear I would never reach the shores of Ireland again if I chose to pass over. There was no option to merely remain a ghostie, mind you.
The idea didn’t take long to process and I took the job. By then, Araxius had moved the main office to Dublin. It was my only ticket home, you see?”
“How long did you stay there, in Ireland?” Brigit asked.
“Oh, for awhile. As I gained tenure, I was sent all over the world to complete assignments. I’ve seen so many places I would most likely have never seen as a mortal man. Granted, I’ve been on assignment, but when the firm is operating at full staff, there is time to take a walk around and see the sights,” John smiled as he offered this particular tidbit. Brigit nodded in understanding. She would have time too, eventually.
“What changed?” she asked as Giuseppe floated over to the counter before them, a carafe of coffee in his hand. He silently refilled her cup and passed her a small cup of crème so that she could prepare her drink to her liking.
“It took many years,” John sighed, “but the heart that I had carried for so long – my poet’s heart -- returned to the emotional side. I couldn’t forget the love that I had borne for so long for Dillon O’Shea. I asked Araxius, one day, how long it would take – to forget everything that I had known during those years. He told me exactly the same thing that I have told you. That if I chose to forget, I would forget everything. It was a choice he said he had made and he was able to do his job efficiently as a result. I, personally, found Araxius Herodotus the coldest soul I had ever encountered. I understood a lot of it was his back ground, having been a military man of the Roman Empire. As you know, some things do not leave the soul when they cross to the spirit realm. I looked to Araxius for guidance when I was at a point in my work that I could not pass the emotions it was creating. He was my mentor, but I looked at him and realized I did not want to be so cold. I was a poet. I depended on my emotions.
“Twenty years into my service with the firm, I was in middle management, if you will. I supervised a regiment of Reapers in Western Europe, giving them their assignments – overseeing their training and providing assistance when they were in difficult situations. One day, I was preparing assignments when I came across Dillon’s portfolio. As I sat in my office, I began to shake and struggle with my first instinct to rush to his side. I made a decision to break a rule,”
“Rule number three? A Reaper shall not reap his own?” Brigit asked.
“That’s the one,” John confirmed. “My heart told me it was the right thing to do. So, I went to Dillon O’Shea. I found him sitting in his apartment, the same one I had seen him in that night. He was so pale, so thin. I hadn’t read his portfolio, but I could see that an unnatural illness had been the cause of his death.”
“How did he react to seeing you again?” Brigit asked quietly.
“He was relieved, apologetic; happy… there were so many emotions he let loose in those few minutes of our time together. All I could do was offer my forgiveness to him, to tell him I still loved him. Then, I opened the door and told him to go home. He asked me to come with him, but I had to deny him. That broke what was left of my heart, but I was a Reaper now. I couldn’t just pass over. I think that broke his heart, but he passed. When I closed the door, I found Araxius standing behind me. I was demoted after a severe lecture. It took me another twenty years to make middle management again, but in hindsight, it was all right. I no longer had a flame burning in my heart to steer me in my decisions. I had my memories, but I no longer had that particular emotion to take into consideration.”
Brigit stared hard into her coffee. She understood everything her mentor was saying. There was a warning in his tale, a subliminal message behind the words he spoke. She caught every nuance he was not saying out loud.
“The living must go on, Brigit,” John said quietly. “We must continue with the job we have undertaken. If we choose to forget everything that made our souls what they currently are, we become as cold as the stones that lay above our heads in the grave yard. Try to understand that we all need to feel alive while we are alive.”
Brigit looked at John and saw that he was looking at her. There was a warm light in his ice blue eyes as he spoke in Maggie’s defense.
“She still loves you,” he continued, “but all she has now is your memory. Take that into consideration as she moves on.”
Brigit could only nod. She turned her face away and looked toward the street scene outside the café window. The sun was still hours from rising. The old man in the booth beside the window was watching the empty street intently. From where she sat, she could see the sadness deep in his eyes. He was waiting, but for what, she had no clue.
“Did I tell you I’ve found a new recruit?” John cut into her thoughts; the lilt in his voice told her he was glad to finally move away from the previous subject of his memory.
“You did,” Brigit replied quietly. “When do we do the interview?” She looked up to see a forced smile dancing in his eyes.
“No time like the present…”
15: Seamus Flannery
John had given Brigit the portfolios in his pocket as they set out from the café. As she scanned the names embossed on the thin black folders, she was surprised to see that it was two of the same family.
“Brothers?” she asked as she opened the first folder.
“Yes,” John replied. “They’re immigrants. Thomas is the younger brother. He’s not quite so volatile as his elder brother, Seamus; but, they were both a force to be reckoned with as mortal men. Thomas had the tendency to follow Seamus’ lead through their lives.”
“So, which one are you considering as a recruit?” Brigit asked as she quickly scanned through Thomas’ file. She closed the portfolio and opened Seamus’ to scan it equally as quick.
“Either one will do, honestly,” John said. “They’re both brawlers. I think that particular quality will be beneficial in the harder assignments, don’t you agree? I mean, it’s not as though either of us really like a fight,” he pointed out.
“This much is true,” Brigit agreed. She had noticed early on that John Blackwick hated a fight as much as she did. It was what kept them delving too deeply into the ‘harder’ assignments.
They walked together down the sidewalk toward the same neighborhood that Brigit had met her fate in. She felt a sh
iver run down her spine as she remembered the buildings and the sounds of that particular evening. The changing leaves had long since fallen from their posts in the trees lining the street and been swept away by the wind and street cleaners. All that remained were the grey limbs that would bear green buds once the first breath of spring arrived again.
They found Thomas sitting on the stoop of a tenement building, his head turning right to left and back again. He was waiting for someone. Brigit had the feeling that someone was never going to come. Thomas was watching, though, and his eyes followed each person that walked past him. A look of contempt was in his dark green eyes as he tore his gaze away and returned it to the opposite end of the street. Brigit felt his eyes settle on her as they continued their approach. She had the feeling he knew they could see him. She saw his back straighten as they neared.
“Thomas Flannery,” John addressed the young man sitting on the stoop.
“Aye, who are you?” Thomas replied.
“John Blackwick. This is my associate, Brigit Malone,” John introduced. Brigit saw the young man’s deep green eyes flick over her again. The look of disdain in them deepened momentarily.
“Never heard of ye,” Thomas said.
“We are aware of as much,” John agreed. “However, we have come to offer you a proposition.”
“I’m waiting for me brother,” Thomas said quickly, ignoring John’s mention of a proposition. “He said to meet him here.”
“Your brother isn’t coming,” Brigit said softly.
“Why not? What’s happened to Seamus? What did you do to him?” Thomas looked horrified at this tidbit of information. He cast an accusing glare directly at her.
“We’ve not seen your brother, yet,” John cut in. Brigit noticed that he had taken a step forward and placed himself between Thomas and herself. “However, we will be visiting him next if you decline our offer.”
“Why won’t Seamus come for me? He said he would be here.” The young man was still ignoring anything beyond news of his missing brother.
“Seamus is dead, Thomas,” John sighed.
The two Reapers watched as the announcement sank in on the young man. His lower lip began to tremble and an angry fear filled his eyes.
“You’re lying! Who sent you? Where’s my brother?”
“Your brother is dead,” John pressed. “As are you. You were set upon by two of the men that you and your brother planned to rob tonight. Do you remember? ” John was laying out the fact, Brigit noticed. She wondered if it was for lack of time, or patience, that John was going to force the young man to acknowledge what had happened to him.
“You’re lying,” Thomas insisted. He was sobbing now. Brigit watched in fascination as his spirit immediately crumbled before them. “I knew this was a bad idea. Damn you, Seamus! You said this was our ticket to go home. You fookin’ idjit! I told you this was a bad idea!”
John and Brigit exchanged glances before returning their attention to the crumbling young man before them. In that glance, they had agreed this was not the candidate they wanted.
“Thomas Flannery, would you like to go home now? Back to Ireland?” John offered.
“I can’t leave without Seamus. Me Mum would kill me,” Thomas sobbed as he ran his arm across his face to wipe away the tears only he could feel.
“That would be a moot point,” Brigit said quietly. “Your mother will understand,” she assured him. Thomas Flannery cast a glare that pushed her back to silence. He had no use for a woman’s voice – save his mother’s. She wondered briefly if his brother had the same attitude towards a female. If it were the case, she knew they would have a problem if Seamus Flannery chose to take the offer his brother was ignoring.
“Thomas Flannery,” John stepped closer to the young Irishman and Brigit saw the door appear to their right. “You may pass now. Your mother will understand all,” he assured the young man. Thomas Flannery stared hard into the ice blue eyes that were leveled on him. He recognized the light that danced in the gaze he met. John Blackwick would not give him any other option. Realizing as much, Thomas Flannery nodded his agreement and sighed deeply.
“I do want to go home,” he admitted. “I never wanted to come here in the first place; but Seamus insisted. He said we could live like kings here. We’ve been living worse than the rats in the alley,” Thomas revealed. “I was not borne to be a thief. I was borne to be a prince. Mum always said so,” he continued. “Yes, I want to go home now.”
John pulled open the door. Brigit noted it’s location and frowned. Thomas Flannery was not going home, as he hoped, but rather to a place that his mortal life had merited his reward. It was too bad, she thought. She was sure that deep down there was some spark of goodness that could have saved him from this fate.
She watched as the young man stepped through the door without another word. John closed it softly and shook his head.
“You lied to him about going home,” Brigit pointed out quietly. The door had been to John’s right – it was definitely not the path home for those who had walked the darker path of mortal existence.
“Unfortunately, I felt it was necessary. I believe he would have further wasted our time if I hadn’t. That’s too bad really,” he said quietly. “I was hoping to take the lesser of two evils.”
“Seamus is worse?” Brigit asked.
“I’m afraid so,” John answered. “Thomas was more of the thinker than Seamus. Still as dangerous, but he would have thought about it for a second longer than his brother will. Well,” John took the now blank portfolio of Thomas Flannery from Brigit and slipped it into his coat pocket. “I suppose we must move on to the next interview.”
Together, they continued walking down the sidewalk. Brigit opened Seamus Flannery’s portfolio and read it slowly as she walked. He was a thief, a murderer, a liar… there was no goodness listed in his file what-so-ever. She wondered how John could see any potential in such a person to complete the job they were going to assign him. Even with hard cases, a measure of compassion and mercy was still a good thing to have. Apparently, Seamus Flannery lacked either based on his life’s record. She was about to point out as much when John stopped and outstretched his arm. Her attention followed his pointed finger down the alley to where they could hear the sound of angry grumbling and the occasional curse.
Seamus Flannery was pacing irritably back and forth across the narrow alleyway. With every other step, he would take a deep drag from the stub of his cigarette and then exhale it with the steps in between. Brigit and John stood at the head of the alley watching the eldest Flannery brother as he paced. He was waiting and both Reapers knew why. Judging by the scowl on the Irishman’s face, Brigit was glad John was the one in charge here. If Thomas Flannery found disdain in a woman’s presence, she was sure Seamus Flannery found disgust. She was especially glad she wouldn’t be the one to tell him that his brother had already passed over.
Seamus continued his pacing. The cigarette between his fingers had become a smoldering nub. Angrily, he threw it to the pavement and smashed it out under the toe of his heavy boot. Keeping his attention on the end of the alley, the Irishman reached into his leather jacket and withdrew a crumpled pack from the inside breast pocket. Inanely, he withdrew another cigarette and placed it between his lips as he deftly slipped the pack back to its resting place. His pacing halted only when he stopped to strike a match and touch the flame to the tip of the cigarette. Brigit watched him intently as he continued to watch the end of the alley. His eyes were narrowed, as if they might pierce the shadows for any sign of his brother.
“Are you sure about this?” Brigit whispered as John repositioned his hold on the ebony walking stick he carried.
“It was Seamus or Thomas. Obviously, we have no choice in this now unless Seamus decides to cross as well. Are you having doubts?”
“Yes,” Brigit admitted. She returned her gaze to the Irishman. His pacing had resumed. Now, there were muttered curses to accompany it in between the inhale and exhale
of his fresh cigarette. Her ears detected some words in Gaelic, others in English and some that were a mixture of the two.
“What is it?” John asked in a whisper as he watched Brigit study the potential new hire.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted.
She didn’t know. Something deep in her gut, however, was telling her to use caution around the swearing Irishman. It went beyond the obvious dislike of females the Flannery brothers possessed. A small whisper in the back of her mind was telling her to be very- very careful around him. Instinctively, her grip tightened on the umbrella handle.
“Just be careful,” she warned quietly. A light smile tugged at the corners of her mentor’s mouth.
“Let’s keep an open mind, Brigit,” John said. With that, he turned and began walking casually down the alley toward the flame-haired, swearing Irishman.
Brigit watched in silence, measuring her breaths evenly as she waited for the first sign of trouble. She had seen John’s fighting abilities. He was always calm and collected during a confrontation. With a brawler like Seamus Flannery, though, Brigit had the instinct that it would take double the effort to pass him over if he rejected the bargain the Grim Reaper would offer. Seamus Flannery’s portfolio was written and the doorway would appear as soon as John Blackwick was within arm’s reach of him. She noticed, however, that John kept just outside his reach of the red-headed man.
John stood waiting for the flame-haired Irishman’s answer. He had delivered the news that Thomas had already passed and witnessed a momentary weakening in Seamus’ façade. With a shake of that red-head, however, the crack in that wall was gone and the emerald green eyes were narrowed on him again in suspicion.
Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross Page 12
