by Anna Oney
A shadow of a dog wagging its tail was displayed on the walkway ahead of Fawn. What she believed to be a dead end was a sharp curve in the passageway. Stella emerged from around the corner, barking twice at Fawn’s stunned, gaping mouth. Joy’s head, adorned with pigtails dangling at both sides of her neck, poked out from the corner from which Stella had just appeared. Joy tipped her head backward, waving her hand.
“This way,” she said. “Through here.”
“What about them?” Fawn asked, jabbing her thumb behind her good shoulder. “I’m not leaving Davlyn and Noelle here.”
“Who said we’re leaving them behind?” Joy asked, her voice echoing down the tunnel. “Wake them sleepy heads up.”
The irritation plaguing Fawn’s companions’ puffy eyes was replaced by squinting looks of wonderment after she broke the news of their possible escape. Noelle leaned to the right of Fawn’s standing form, while Davlyn leaned to the left.
“What?” Davlyn asked, peering upward and locking eyes with Fawn. “Through there?” She came to her knees. “Oh, I don’t know,” she mumbled, shaking her head.
“I’m with Davlyn,” Noelle agreed, standing up and brushing the dirt from her backside. “I mean . . . how is that tunnel even here?” she asked, her voice rattling. “And how far does it go? Oh, and where does it lead to?”
“For the love of . . . ” Fawn ranted, striding toward the massive hole in the wall. “Do y’all really want to stay here? Look around you! Plunging ourselves into the unknown seems a lot more promising than remaining in the present.”
Noelle and Davlyn exchanged wide-eyed, brow-raised looks and shrugged their shoulders.
“I guess we really don’t have a choice,” Davlyn said, struggling to her feet and joining Fawn. “If we don’t make it . . .” She looked back at Noelle, and then to Fawn. “At least we’ll be doing something productive rather than just waiting here to die.”
It was Davlyn’s words of wisdom that seemed to convince Noelle to join them at the entrance of the tunnel. Fawn was the first to step through the peculiar passageway. Immediately, the pain in her shoulder dissipated, enveloping her in a soothing sense of relief. The other two women quickly followed suit, nearly colliding with Fawn’s back as she came to a stop.
“I feel great!” Davlyn said, patting herself all over. “I’m not dizzy or lightheaded anymore.”
“Me, too!” Noelle exclaimed, bringing her hand to her stomach. “I’m not hungry anymore.” She sniffed the air, which was filled with the aroma of food, and smacked her lips. “Whatever’s cooking sure does smell good.”
“I could eat,” Davlyn added and fervently nodded.
Fawn peered over her shoulder, seeing that the wall had closed behind them. Noelle and Davlyn trailed Fawn’s perturbed, questioning gaze, immediately bringing their eyes forward.
“Um-hmm,” Noelle said, hissing through her bared teeth. “That’s promising.”
Feelings of doubt lingered at the tip of Fawn’s tongue just waiting to be confessed when Joy spoke up ahead of them.
“Just follow Stella until you reach the door in the sky.”
Fawn turned around, motioning toward the thirteen-year-old girl, who was accompanied by her white pit bull.
“Noelle, Davlyn,” she said, “this is Joy and Stella.”
“Stella . . . as in your Gran’s Stella?” Davlyn asked, smiling timidly at Fawn. Seeming to take Fawn’s nod and half-smile as confirmation, she continued. “I’m assuming you know this girl somehow, then. Who is Joy to you?”
Curious about the answer of that question herself, Fawn scanned Joy’s angelic, flawless features in search of any family resemblance.
“That is a good question,” Fawn said, tilting her head as she stepped closer to Joy. “Joy? Care to explain?”
Joy smiled and waved as she began dissolving into thin air before them.
“All in due time,” she whispered, sending a chill up Fawn’s spine. “All in due time.”
Fawn squatted before Stella, surprised the dog hadn’t vanished along with her mistress, and scratched behind her pig-like ears. Barking three times, Stella shook her head in a no-time-for-nonsense manner and stomped her front paws at the ground.
Stella was the first to begin Fawn, Noelle, and Davlyn’s journey. She sprinted ahead of them and disappeared around the sharp corner from which she’d come. The three women exchanged worried looks and were jolted by the sound of Stella’s booming bark as she stuck her head out from around the corner, commanding them to join her.
“Ladies,” Fawn said, advancing forward. “Shall we?”
Fawn craned her neck questioningly at the sound of drums, whoops, and cheers emanating from around the corner. The three women arrived where Stella waited. Instead of a jeweled passageway, Stella escorted them down a short walkway with an exit, shrouded in brittle grass that hung from the edge of an awning.
Stella paused before the opening, whipping her wet snout back at the women she was left to tend to.
“Come on, this way,” Fawn imagined Stella saying. “Pick up the pace.”
They followed Stella through the exit and found themselves immersed in the festivities of a Native American tribe. Numerous men and women dressed like Fawn danced around a roaring fire. The ends of their long, raven hair swished and bobbed up and down with their celebratory movements. Three young men, who Fawn figured to be in their mid-teens, pounded on drumheads covered in stretched rawhide. The rhythmic tune exploded beneath their palms, coaxing Fawn to sway her hips.
“What in the world?” Davlyn whispered, awakening Fawn from her trance.
Before she could finish her thought, the three women’s attention was drawn toward a large, thatch-roofed hut ahead of them that was elevated by stilts. A woman dressed in a knee-length tan-skinned dress, with beaded fringe at the cuffs of her elbow-length sleeves and hemline, cascaded down a flight of stairs that led up to the entrance of the hut. She flipped her long braid of black hair behind her back and hopped up and down.
“Welcome!” she shouted, gleefully waving them over.
“Should we go to her?” Noelle asked, looking to Fawn.
Stella walked ahead of them, maneuvering around the Native Americans’ dancing forms. Davlyn spoke up before Fawn could answer.
“Looks like we should,” she replied, staring after Stella. “Our guide is headed that way.”
Fawn, Davlyn, and Noelle caught up with Stella at the bottom of the hut’s steps. The beautiful, dark-haired woman cleared the remaining steps to give them a proper greeting.
“Honored to meet you,” the woman said, smiling as she took turns shaking each of their hands.
“Same here,” Fawn replied, peering behind them at the men and women dancing. “What’re y’all celebrating?”
“We always know when someone of our blood passes through the veil. I’m Ayita. I’m sure you’ve heard of my brother, Wakiza?”
Slack-jawed, Fawn widened her brightened eyes at Davlyn, whose cheeks became flushed. Fawn’s mind flipped through the pages of Gran’s memoir, landing on a passage.
In the spirit world, Wakiza had brought Gran to Ayita’s bedside as she was giving birth to the Irishman’s son. Wakiza had explained to Fawn’s grandmother, Emma, that Ayita had softened MacClery’s ill-tempered, cruel demeanor turning him into a man Ayita could fall in love with. MacClery began the bloodline of Gran and Fawn’s people by impregnating Ayita with a son they named Samuel — the boy Gran had named Fawn’s father after.
Fawn cleared her throat.
“Yes,” she replied. “I do believe we’ve heard of you.”
“Come,” Ayita continued after a brief pause. “Follow me.”
Stella joined Ayita as she began climbing the stairs. Side by side, the three women trailed behind them until Fawn felt compelled to break the silence.
“Where is Wakiza?”
“He’s out preparing for the battle to come.”
“Battle?” Davlyn mouthed, looking wearily at Fawn.
“What battle?” Fawn asked, quickening her pace up the stairs.
“The battle that is to come,” Ayita repeated over her shoulder in a stern voice that told Fawn to drop the subject.
The three women left one party for another as Ayita and Stella escorted them through the entrance of the hut. The hum of multiple conversations coming from numerous people of different skin tones, sizes, and ages halted at the sight of Fawn and her two companions being led further inside. Tendrils of glowing light hung from the ceiling, hovering inches above the strangers’ smiling, welcoming faces.
Fawn’s mouth began salivating at the scent of freshly cooked roast and boiled potatoes. She could make out the legs of numerous tables between the gaps of the people encircling them.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ayita’s voice traveled throughout the room. “Our guests have arrived.”
The crowd of men and women raised their drinking glasses, filled with a fizzing, light-rose colored substance, and walked toward Fawn and her companions. After Fawn, Davlyn, and Noelle took turns being hugged by those who felt inclined to do so, they were shown to an empty table with three place settings. Their seats were designated for them by nameplates, upon which each of their names had been written in cursive with forest green ink.
Ayita motioned toward the table with her palms facing up. As guests of honor, Fawn took her place in the middle with Noelle sitting to her left and Davlyn to her right. The spiky ends of Stella’s short hair rubbed against the top of Fawn’s foot as the dog settled under the table.
Various people began bringing Fawn and her friends platters of food to pick from. Curls of steam rose from each dish piled with different cuisine. Davlyn chose deer steak smothered in brown gravy, and sides of collard greens and sweet potatoes, which were topped with melty, fluffy white puffs of something called “marshmallows.” Noelle chose chicken wings glazed with honey, with sides of zucchini, squash, and sautéed mushrooms. Fawn decided to go with the steaming roast and boiled potatoes that she’d caught a whiff of when they’d first entered. Carrots and onions, along with red, yellow, and green bell peppers had been added to the succulent roast and seasoned potatoes.
Fawn closed her eyes, savoring the first bite. The meat fell apart and melted in her mouth. Stella stuck her head between Fawn’s legs, begging for a taste. A skinny gentleman came to their table toting a sweating pitcher of the same light-rose colored substance everyone else was drinking.
“Muscadine wine?” he offered, lowering the pitcher to Noelle’s glass. “Madam?”
“Sure,” Noelle replied, raising her glass.
“Yeah, uh,” Davlyn said, leaning her glass over Fawn’s plate. “Can my cousin and I get in on that?”
“Why, certainly,” he said, filling each of their glasses. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Fawn took a sip of her wine, enjoying the subtle tartness of the sweet drink as she sloshed it around in her mouth before swallowing.
“I’m not going to be able to stomach Mr. Gamby’s moonshine after this.”
“Me neither, cousin,” Davlyn replied and burped, quickly downing her glass. “Me neither.”
Amused by Davlyn’s unladylike tendencies, Fawn laughed and lowered her glass to the table. She became straight-faced as she noticed a woman wearing black skinny jeans and a sleeveless shirt adorned with an image of David Bowie. The woman was out of place amongst Fawn’s tan-skinned ancestors. The fuchsia, curly hair that framed her chubby-cheeked face, brought out the deep blue in her sapphire eyes — the same eyes Fawn had inherited from her mother, Willa. Fawn observed the woman giggling at what the man she was speaking with had said. She tilted her head back in laughter and turned, exposing an elaborate tattoo of crows and skulls that stretched across her upper back and shoulder blades.
“Grandma Darby,” Fawn whispered to herself, as Davlyn and Noelle shoveled food down their gullets.
The only grandparent Fawn had met was her grandfather, Link, Darby’s husband. The rest of her grandparents had died before she and her siblings were born. Gran had logged an in-depth description of her best friend, Darby, in her memoir. Fawn had cheered when she’d reached the part about Grandma Darby showing up at Back Wood’s front gate accompanied by her equally tattooed fiancé, Link.
Willa had further described her mother to Fawn as a free spirit and a wannabe rock star with a raspy vocal range that could make a person cover their ears. But that never stopped Darby from belting out David Bowie’s classics to Willa at bedtime, who would later sing the same songs to her own children.
Fawn shot to her feet, sending her chair skidding backward. Noelle and Davlyn’s jaws were stalled during mid-chew as the backrest of Fawn’s chair collided with the wall behind them. Clutching their forks, Noelle and Davlyn’s foreheads creased in confusion at the sight of Fawn rushing around the table. Ignoring their stares, Fawn worked her way through the crowd of strangers, closing the distance between herself and her deceased grandmother. She came to a jittering halt behind Darby, and tapped her on the shoulder.
Darby turned her head slightly to see who had interrupted her conversation and whipped her body around to face Fawn.
“There’s my grandbaby!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Fawn, rocking her back and forth. “Gosh,” she said and paused, giving Fawn one last squeeze. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Me, too,” Fawn replied, her eyes glistening with happy tears.
“Do you mind calling me Neenah?”
“Neenah?” Fawn repeated, narrowing her eyes at her grandmother.
“Yeah, it’s almost Nana, but with a twist.”
“Sure thing,” Fawn replied. “I didn’t see you when we came in. Have you been here the whole time?”
“Girl, no,” she answered, pursing her lips and waving a hand through the air. “I was a little late. You know, a Reaper’s work is never done. People are dropping like flies these days.”
Fawn studied her grandmother’s face, waiting for the punchline that wouldn’t come.
You’ve got to be joking, she thought.
In her mid-teens Fawn had read about Reapers in folklore books she’d checked out from Stagecoach’s library. The authors had described them as tall, faceless creatures shrouded in black robes, wielding large scythes. Fawn had had nightmares starring Reapers the following night. She’d tossed and turned at the thought of one of them ripping her soul out through her chest.
“I thought Reapers were a myth,” Fawn said, shuddering at the image.
“We have many names: angels of death, chauffeurs to the afterlife,” Neenah said. “My favorite is the,” she paused, and then used her fingers as air quotes. “Bright light at the end of the tunnel.”
A slap on Fawn’s calf prompted her to peer downward. Stella had left the table to join Fawn’s side. Her tail whacked against Fawn’s leg a second time.
“You’re not scary like the ones I’ve read about,” she replied, wincing as Stella smacked her calf again. “Easy, Stella. Geesh!”
“That’s because my work is done topside.” Neenah jabbed her thumbs upward. “The Reapers you’re referring to escort naughty souls to Hell after their judgment. Talk about having no personality.” She scrunched up her nose. “It’s a drag running into those dudes. They are just as eerie as the Hell they commute to and from.”
“How does one become a, a . . .” Fawn swallowed back a catch in her throat. “A Reaper?”
“Father chooses spirits who possessed a gravitational pull while they were living. I don’t mean to toot my own horn,” Neenah said, smiling with her mouth slightly askew, and nudging Fawn’s uninjured shoulder with her elbow. “But people were quite taken with me when I was alive. I took being chosen as a compliment.”
“I guess it is a compliment when you look at it that way.”
Neenah patted Stella firmly on the head.
“You’ve been hanging out with a Reaper since Joy opened the veil to you and your friends. Stella’s the
best Reaper around. She’s the one who called your Gran home.”
Stella wagged her tail. Fawn peered into the dog’s black eyes, wondering who would reap her soul when her time was up.
Neenah extended her hand toward the table where Davlyn and Noelle were finishing up their meals. She rested her palm in the middle of Fawn’s back and escorted her and Stella through the crowd. Neenah made herself comfortable beside Fawn at the table. She sat watching Fawn clean her plate by slopping up gravy with a roll she’d torn in half. By the time Fawn was finished, Davlyn had downed her fourth glass of muscadine wine and Noelle was sitting back in her chair rubbing her full stomach.
“Now, Fawn,” Neenah said, shaking her head at her granddaughter’s injured shoulder. “That shoulder won’t do. Mrs. Maples doesn’t like anyone tending to her patients but herself, but hey,” she said, bringing her hands to Fawn’s shoulder. “She’ll get over it. You’ll feel a smidge of a sting, but it’s nothing to write home about.”
Delicately, Neenah rubbed the front and back of Fawn’s swollen shoulder, dispensing a warm, green fluid from her fingers into Fawn’s bruised flesh.
“There,” Neenah said, and exhaled. “That should do it.”
With a snap of Neenah’s fingers, the shawl they’d used to create a sling for Fawn’s arm untied itself and slithered through the air, draping itself across the back of Noelle’s neck.
Fawn caught sight of Ayita making rounds of the room. She seemed to be ensuring that the spirits in attendance were enjoying themselves. Raising both of her arms, Ayita paused in the middle of the room, letting out a sigh of relief.
“That’s better,” Neenah said, clapping her hands. “Believe me,” she winked at Noelle who gawked at the shawl as if it were a snake. “Whomever decides to shimmy down the pipe first will need the shawl. I’m afraid it’s time for you ladies to be on your way.”
