Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross

by B. L. Newport

  “The option is yours, Seamus Flannery,” John reminded evenly.

  “So, let’s say I take yer offer,” Seamus said after exhaling the smoke from his mouth. “What happens to me when I’ve completed the job?”

  “Fortunately, for you, there is no real completion. The job of a Grim Reaper is constant in the spirit world. People continue to die every day. Good people, bad people – they all must be escorted to their fates, Seamus. I’m presenting you the opportunity to stall yours.”

  Seamus grunted and took another deep drag from his cigarette. John could see the wheels were grinding in the Irishman’s head. Seamus Flannery was well aware of his judgment. John was hoping to play on the wisp of thought that Seamus was selfish enough to want to avoid facing that fate for awhile longer.

  “And yer sayin’ I would be the head of my own department?” Seamus asked.

  “I suppose you could put it that way,” John answered.

  “Imagine that,” Seamus said with an amused shake of his head. “Me in charge,”

  “In a sense,” John agreed. “What is your decision?”

  The emerald green eyes snapped to meet his again. Greed and danger danced through them. John sensed that Seamus had already made the decision and was merely biding his time to see whether he could gain anything more than stalling the facing of his fate. John met his gaze evenly, unwilling to offer anything more than that stalling.

  “All right then,” Seamus finally said. “I’ll take it on. When do I start?”

  “Today. Your training begins at once,” John raised his right hand and signaled for Brigit to join the conversation. “This is my associate, Brigit Malone,” he introduced when he sensed Brigit was within hearing range. He watched as Seamus Flannery’s attention snapped to Brigit and assessed her quickly.

  “And what department does she deal with?” Seamus asked.

  “We’re currently restructuring the firm,” John replied. “At present, Brigit is my assistant. She will have a hand in your training. When I am disposed, she will be in charge.”

  Brigit felt Seamus Flannery assess her again and shake his head in disbelief. She was about to open her mouth to protest his assessment, but John laid a soft hand on her arm and quieted any protest she might think of. Her original doubts, the thoughts she had been unable to put a label on, were beginning to swarm and meld together. There was going to be a problem between her and Seamus Flannery. Unfortunately, she lacked the vision to know exactly what it would be.

  “Fine,” Seamus spat as he threw the stub of his current cigarette to the pavement and smashed it out under the toe of his boot. “Let’s get busy then.”

  When they returned to the office, Brigit listened silently as John escorted Seamus through the offices and explained the operation of the firm. She watched as John presented the Irishman with the Reaper’s Field Guide and then watched as Seamus hastily began to scan over its contents. He was eager to start work. She could see that he was also one who would do anything and everything he could to be impressive. She wondered how many errors he would make along the way in trying to prove himself. When John let Seamus into the arsenal room, Brigit finally had a few moments alone with her mentor.

  “You’re still having your doubts,” John pointed out quietly as he sank into the seat behind his desk.

  “I am. I still can’t put a finger on it, though. I just think, eventually, he will become a problem,” Brigit prophesied. John studied her for a second before nodding his head in agreement. He too could foresee a problem, but like Brigit, he couldn’t find the moment it would unfold in their laps.

  “We’ll deal with it when the time comes. In the mean time, we must get him trained by the rules and make sure he understands them as they are written. We can’t afford to have a maverick reaping souls. It’s bad enough the Bailey still hasn’t come around and the files keep pouring in. You haven’t see him, have you?” Brigit shook her head. She had been too focused on her assignments to have noticed the Bailey running amok anywhere near her.

  “Be sure to keep an eye out for him, will you?” John requested. Brigit nodded and was about to ask another question when Seamus burst into the office, swinging the gnarled club wildly in front of him.

  “What do you think of this?” he asked as he took a couple more swings through the air. It was the shelaighley, a traditional walking stick of Ireland made from the roots of the Blackthorn tree.

  “How does it feel?” John asked.

  “It feels good. I would have taken that black Samurai sword, but it wouldn’t lift off the table. So, I took what felt familiar to me,” Seamus explained.

  “A sword is only to be used in extreme assignments, Mr. Flannery,” Brigit addressed him. Seamus looked at her, this time without a light of disapproval.

  “Why?” his red eyebrows had arched in curiosity at her comment.

  “The use of a sword condemns a soul to eternal limbo. There is no heaven, no hell. It’s the emptiness in between that a soul will face if a sword is used to pass them,” Brigit continued. John nodded in agreement with the lesson she explained.

  “Oh, well, since you put it that way…” Seamus took a few more swings with the shelaighley again and smiled to himself.

  “Aside from that, that particular sword will only allow itself to be carried by one of two people,” John added, catching both Brigit and Seamus’ attention. “Only its maker or a Reaper on a divine and honorable mission may carry it. There was a spell put on it by the last samurai to die by it. As he uttered the curse, the conquering warlord that had carried it found that he could no longer command or wield the sword and he left it in the field beside his fallen enemy to be taken to the spirit world. It was brought to our firm by Araxius Herodotus himself. It has only been used once since its arrival,” John explained quietly. He watched as the history lesson of the sword sank in on the two Reapers.

  “What about the other swords?” Seamus asked as he mulled the story over.

  “I’ll refer you back to Brigit’s explanation regarding the use of a sword,” John sighed patiently. “Now, please, take a seat, Mr. Flannery. I need to design your training schedule,” he motioned to the empty chair to Brigit’s left. “Brigit, take these assignments for today. I’ll fill you in when you return.”

  Brigit took the pile of portfolios John indicated and silently walked out of the office. Her mind was churning with the sense that Seamus Flannery was going to end up being more a problem than assistance. It was a welcome distraction, though, she thought. She couldn’t allow the thought of Maggie to enter her mind right now. She was still unsure whether she should continue to keep her promise. It still burned that Maggie would move on so quickly.

  16: Dealings

  Brigit kept herself busy for a week, ignoring the passing of the end of the year and the beginning of the New Year. John was more than willing to pass her a pile of portfolios upon her return to the office. Their assignment piles were beginning to shrink thanks to her attention to the job. Brigit made no objection to the work load. It was a welcomed distraction from the thoughts that would pass through her mind during the minutes between. It also kept her from directly dealing with Seamus Flannery.

  She had kept from imagining the going-on of Maggie’s every day existence. Brigit couldn’t allow herself to imagine the intimate moments Maggie was spending with Lorena Rubens. She couldn’t allow those pictures to enter her mind. If she did, she felt a spark of anger that she desperately wanted to avoid. Brigit had always hated to be angry. She had always felt the emotion to be such a drain on her energy.

  It was there, though. The little spark glowed in the darkness that she continually tried to avoid looking into. When she would glimpse it, Brigit would quickly divert her attention. She couldn’t feed it, not now. She hadn’t made a decision yet.

  Seamus Flannery was taking to his training like a fish to water. John expressed his happiness with his choice more than once and Brigit found she was more and more uncomfortable with it. Seamus had made
a few remarks in her direction, remarks she chose to ignore for the time being. His cockiness wore on her nerves as he would recount his field training under John’s tutelage. As he would tell the tale of scuffles during some of the more minor assignments under his department as if they were great feats of daring bravery and Brigit found it increasingly hard to control the urge to roll her eyes in boredom with the story. Instead, she suffered the details until John would pass her another pile and excuse her for the day.

  Toward the middle of the second week of not going home, Brigit took a moment to ponder it all. She missed Maggie. She missed the familiar surroundings of the home they had built together. She wanted to feel Maggie’s warmth against her body. She wanted to wrap her arms around her lover and hear the gentle breathing that came when Maggie was deep in a peaceful sleep.

  Upon returning to the office, she was not surprised when John slid more work toward her. He, however, was surprised when she shook her head in decline.

  “I’m going home tonight,” she announced quietly.

  “So you’ve made a decision in regard to Maggie?” he asked.

  “Who’s Maggie?” Seamus piped up from the corner where he was going through a box he had been assigned to sort out.

  “My wife,” Brigit replied automatically. She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out. She had not meant to expose anything personal to Seamus. Especially anything about Maggie.

  “Go then,” John said quickly. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  Brigit only nodded and exited the office. She had made her decision. She would keep her promise. She would learn to deal with Maggie’s course through the rest of her life. Brigit would be there when that life ended and the next one would begin.

  “She’s a bleedin’ lesbo?” she heard Seamus ask in a harsh whisper. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to have a go…”

  “Keep dreaming, lad.” Brigit heard John warn with an amused tone in his voice.

  The apartment was empty when Brigit entered. It was after five, by the clock on the wall. By the look of things, Maggie had spent little time at home lately. Newspapers were piled on the end of the sofa; the rubber band holding them in a roll had not been removed. The flowers Lorena had brought Maggie that first night had since been replaced in the vase on the kitchen table and dishes lay in the sink, half filled with water to prevent stains. Brigit made her way to the bedroom with a slight sense of foreboding. She was hesitant to view more evidence of Maggie’s absence from their home.

  The bed was perfectly made. The decorative pillows had been lined against the headboard and the comforter smoothed to near photo-finish perfection. Brigit’s attention went to the small table on Maggie’s side and felt her heart sink. The small photograph Maggie had kept there for years was gone. She wondered, as she sank onto the bed and sighed heavily, if the photograph had joined the other mementos of their life in the box that now lived in the hall closet.

  The thought brought her up from the bed. Quickly, she went to the hall closet and opened the door. Not just the spirit of the door, but the actual door. The shock of it missed her as she knelt and ripped the lid off the box Maggie had been storing all their memories in. She found the photo resting on top of the pile that had accumulated there. She snatched it up and quickly returned to the bedroom. As she placed it back on Maggie’s bedside table, the sudden realization that she had moved something physical finally struck her. She turned and looked at the closet door. It was still standing wide open in the hall. Her heart suddenly leapt with joy. She had moved a physical object!

  But what did it mean? Was it a new power that she could harness to alert Maggie that she was still present? Was it a new way to remind her lover to stay true to their love and everything they had once had? It would definitely be more noticeable than the killing of fresh flowers in a cut bouquet…

  Brigit’s mind raced with the possibilities as she looked around the room. A small velvet box on the bureau caught her eye. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up and opened it. Inside, she found a pair of diamond earrings. A wicked smile came to her lips as she eyed them. They had to be a gift from Lorena. The wickedness of Brigit’s smile was based on the knowledge that Maggie had no use for diamonds. She had never possessed a fondness or a desire for the gems. Anyone who truly knew Maggie knew that she was the least likely person to wear diamonds. Brigit snapped the lid shut on the small box and looked to her left. A small wastebasket still sat nestled in the corner. With a tinge of delight, she dropped the jewelry box in the small bin.

  She turned her attention back to the bureau and began to scan for other items that could have come from Lorena when she heard the front door open. She could hear Maggie chattering and another voice – Lorena Rubens’ – adding to the conversation. Brigit resumed her seat on the edge of the bed and listened to the commotion in the front room. She could only smile when she heard Maggie’s verbal wonderment about the door to the hall closet being opened.

  “Are you sure you closed it this morning?” Lorena was heard to ask.

  “I didn’t even go into it,” Maggie replied. The pause that followed the reply told Brigit that Maggie had noticed the lid to the box she kept there being removed. Brigit could feel the energy of the uneasiness at the sight make its way down the hall as Maggie closed the door.

  “Maybe it’s a loose bolt,” Lorena suggested.

  “Maybe. Let me change real quick and I’ll be ready for dinner,”

  Maggie appeared at the bedroom door a few seconds later. Brigit watched as her partner stopped, immediately scanning the room for anything amiss. As if by instinct, she watched as Maggie’s eyes settled on the small photograph Brigit had replaced to her bedside table. The audible gasp that escaped Maggie brought Lorena rushing to the room.

  “What’s the matter?” Lorena demanded.

  “I, um,” Maggie was having trouble finding the exact words to explain what she had found. “I thought I saw a mouse,” she finally said.

  “What?” Lorena asked. “Where?” She stepped further into the bedroom.

  “Over there, by the bureau,” Maggie pointed. Brigit watched as Lorena walked to Maggie’s side of the room and began to search for the non-existent mouse. To Brigit’s delight, the search led the other woman to the wastebasket – and to the jewelry box resting lightly on top of the rubbish Maggie had been accumulating there for months.

  “What is this? You threw the earrings away?” Lorena asked, lifting the box out of the small bin.

  “What? No, they were on the bureau…I must have accidentally knocked them into the bin,” Maggie offered as an excuse. Brigit bit her bottom lip to keep from chuckling at the sudden discomfort of the situation.

  “If you didn’t like them, you should have just returned them to me. You have no idea how much I paid for these,” Lorena snapped at Maggie.

  “Lorena, I didn’t throw them away,” Maggie argued.

  “You have no appreciation for how much I care for you, that much is obvious, Margaret,” Lorena snapped. Brigit stiffened at the use of Maggie’s given name. No one called Maggie by her birth name. To Maggie, it was an insult – as much of one as the idea that Lorena had been trying to buy her love with the diamonds.

  “Don’t call me ‘Margaret’,” Maggie said through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll call you whatever I want. I can’t believe you would be so reckless,” Lorena spat. “You know, I don’t think we should go to dinner tonight. I think we need some time apart.”

  “I agree,” Brigit grumbled as Lorena forced the discarded jewelry box into her coat pocket and made to exit the room. On a whim, Brigit stuck her foot out and caught the departing woman at the ankle. The fall that ensued caused Brigit to finally giggle as Maggie jumped out of the way.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” Maggie asked as she knelt to Lorena’s side. Lorena pushed the woman away forcefully.

  “Get off me,” she snarled.

  By now, Brigit was on her feet. She had felt the force Lorena had us
ed to push Maggie away. The spark of anger she had been trying so hard to ignore for the last week suddenly roared to life as a full on bonfire.

  “Don’t ever touch her again,” Brigit growled as she reached out. She yanked Lorena Rubens to her feet by the lapels of her suit coat. The sudden fear she saw in the fallen woman’s eyes fueled her rage. She could tell Lorena Rubens was scared. Maggie was still sitting on the floor where Lorena had pushed her. Brigit could see the questions dance through Lorena’s eyes as to who -- or what -- had a hold of her.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Lorena stammered, trying to sound furious. Her sudden fear, though, prevailed.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie answered meekly. She had watched Lorena spring from the floor as if she had been yanked up. She had felt the rush of the air around her and she thought she had heard the faint command to Lorena to never touch her again. She shook her head. She had been hearing things, that was all. She was sure the sudden stress of the scene was causing her to imagine voices that were not there.

  “Leave,” Brigit snarled as she pushed Lorena toward the door. From the corner of her eye, she saw Maggie stand behind her. She had no intention of letting Lorena come near Maggie though. Lorena stumbled as she felt the force of the shove Brigit delivered. Her fear disappeared and was replaced again by the anger she had been searching for.

  “Keep your hands off me!”

  “I didn’t touch you, Lorena,” Maggie pointed out. She was well outside arms reach of the other woman. “You need to leave now,” Maggie said.

  “I’ll leave when I damn well feel like it,” Lorena snapped, taking a step toward Maggie in the attempt to show who was the more dominant. Brigit dug deep into the bonfire of her anger and pushed Lorena again. This time, the force sent her flying across the room. Lorena landed on her back and lay still for a second, the wind having been knocked out of her. When she finally scrambled to her feet, she made a rush for Maggie. Again, she was blocked by the invisible wall that Brigit had become.