Authors: Kerri Cuevas
My hands dropped to the floor, picking up my scythe. I sucked in a stale breath, easing myself to my feet. I relaxed with the scythe’s familiar feel beneath my bony fingers. It radiated warmth and I clung to that normalcy as I had with my guitar when I was alive.
I would go collect the girl’s soul. I didn’t want any other Grim Reaper near her. I would do my job.
“Are you okay?” he asked. I felt him trying to comfort me, but I pushed it away.
“Yes . . . no . . . maybe, oh I don’t know. You have my clean stuff?”
He put a pile of cloaks in a heap over the dark water spot and took my used ones. “Did I mention that I’m not a woman who does your laundry? Do your own,” Abe said. “I’ll train you myself if you go through with this assignment.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “No Grim Reaper Academy?”
“You’re a natural, kid, but you need more training than they offer. It’s imperative that you learn the histories. You need to know about the lesser creatures.”
“Let’s do the speech another time. I need to find a way to take care of this assignment, kay?”
Abe’s eyes wandered as he stroked his beard. “I don’t understand why you give me the letter ‘k.’ Am I missing something? Or is this like how you call yourself, Ad, now instead of your given name?”
I growled in frustration. “Sheesh. You old dudes are worse than a granny. Okay. Kay. You get it?”
Abe was quiet, deep in thought, then burst out with rolling laughter. “I get it. The English language has become foreign since I died.”
He tipped his hat and left, leaving me alone in the black with only the moans from the River of Lost Souls to keep me company. My heart was a leaden thing that had sunk in my chest. I took a deep breath and moved my gondola away from the shore. I headed north to face my fate, knowing in the pit of my non-existent stomach that Bee was the one who would leave me a Grim Reaper for eternity.
Two
I
stood against the stone wall of Bee’s house and waited for an opportunity. I had to make the death look natural and not a random act of violence.
Being born in Acstead gave me an advantage. I knew where all the cemeteries were for this assignment. I was careful to enter through the one in the center of town instead of the one behind her house. Even though no one could see me, I still felt visible to the mortal world.
My scythe was on the ground. I checked my phone again, mostly out of habit. Not like my voicemail was overflowing with messages. The only two who called were Abe and his other Reaperling, Reina. God, I could manage without hearing her annoying voice. I looked up, calculating my next move.
The edge of the grassed yard looked into the woods to a forgotten cemetery. Laughter echoed off the old head stones and vibrated my bones. I put my phone in the pocket of my cloak and moved closer to watch Bee. Just thinking about her name made me want to be with her again.
I swallowed down a lump of guilt as I walked past the flower garden I helped Bee to plant. The flowers were brown now, and it reminded me how fragile life was.
Bee was prettier than I remembered. She was short, and her curves reminded me of my Fender acoustic, perfectly crafted. The jeans were nice, but the flowery pink sweater and wool gray hat looked to be borrowed from her mom. Straight black hair stood out against her white skin. I remembered how I used to twirl it around my fingers. My heart beat hard and my hand shook. I had to go through with this.
Bee leaned into the oak tree that stood outside of the cemetery. “One . . . two . . . three.” She screamed and small giggles erupted from behind a large boulder.
I stumbled back as twin girls with Bee’s jet black hair ran by, tugging on each other. Their purple jackets contrasted with the vibrant yellows and reds of the leaves. There was no mistaking the Flynt family. They all had the same straight black hair. Well, everyone except Bee’s mother. The twin girls were Bee’s cousins, Sabrina’s sisters—the sisters Sabrina barely knew.
“Four . . . five . . . six.” Bee peeked over her arm to see what direction the twins ran. The rusted gate from the cemetery squeaked and she snapped her head in their direction, sheer panic on her face that the girls had entered the cemetery.
“Seven . . . eight . . . nine.” She said in one breath and half ran toward the old cemetery. “Ten!”
I stood still, the silent observer in the lush pines.
It was quiet except for the occasional chuckle of the twin girls. The geese honked from a distance and wind rustled the dried leaves. Bee pretended not to know where the girls were hiding.
She jumped behind the rock, but they had run to another spot a minute before she arrived. Bee yelled. “Boo! They tricked me. Hmm, where can they be? Maybe Faith and Hope are hiding behind a tree.”
A short squeaky giggle erupted from one of the twins and she yelped, “Ouch!”
Bee took a deep breath and walked toward the rusted gate that opened into the cemetery. She entered into Grim Reaper territory.
“Find me, Bee,” the child squeaked, and her voice carried on the wind from behind the old maple that stood grand and thick in the middle of the scattered gravestones. Some would think it odd to have an old cemetery in your backyard, but in small town New Hampshire, it was considered part of the décor.
“Here I come. Where are Hope and Faith?” Bee’s almost kid-like voice bubbled out.
I blew out a long breath and shook my head. I didn’t want to end her life, but I looked around, seeing what I could use to create her death. I was much better with close contact and with creating a medical death rather than using nature. I looked up to see if there were loose branches, but she ran away from the tree and toward a clustered plot of gravestones.
The two girls giggled and jumped out at her with open arms. They fell onto the moist ground laughing. One of them pulled off her hat, and the other threw leaves into Bee’s hair.
“You’re good at this game, girls.” She sat up, shaking her head, but the leaves remained.
“Bee looks like scary crow, Hope. Look at all the leaves in her hair.” Faith pointed, laughing.
“You mean
scare
crow.” Bee messed Faith’s hair with her hand. It was smooth, thick, and ran down to her shoulders. The child picked out the dried leaves from her hair releasing them, and they swayed to the ground.
“I wanna snack now. Can we go home?” Hope cradled Bee’s face with her pudgy hands. Her little lips kissed the tip of Bee’s red nose.
The leaves rustled, and Bee leaned forward toward the Kessler family crypt and froze. A red squirrel stopped with its face fat with nuts. It twitched its nose and ran away. “Your mom should be back now,” Bee said, “How about when we get home, I make you hot apple cider. I’ll add extra cinnamon.”
“Cither. Yea!” One of the twins clapped her hands together and skipped around the stones. I watched mesmerized by her hair as it whipped in the wind.
“Cither, cither!” The twins chanted.
“Ci-
der
,” Bee corrected. They walked behind her, jumping on leaves that fell to the dry ground.
The cemetery gate squeaked as Bee closed it. I noticed a loose branch in the tree ahead. My scythe warmed up in my hand. I should get this over with fast because the longer I hung around, the harder it would be to take her life and soul.
I aimed the scythe’s energy to loosen the branch. I swallowed hard. Sometimes I hated my job.
The branch dislodged from the nook it was stuck in. I raised my scythe, getting ready to make it fall.
“Girls. Quick! Look at the salamander.” She ran to it, crouched down, and cupped the thing in her hands.
My scythe cooled and the branch remained in the tree. A close contact medical reap it would have to be then. I blew out a long breath. I moved closer to them, staying hidden in the pine trees. Another Grim Reaper should have this assignment. I shook away past thoughts, and lowered my hood.
I saw Bee cuddle some kind of lizard in her hands. A soft light sparked off her and animated the stiff creature. It wiggled across her hand.
I tucked my hands in the long sleeves of my cloak as the cold blew through my bones. I could never warm up unless I collected a soul. The warmth would fade after the delivery, which sent me back into an artic freeze.
“You want to find it a home? It’s getting too cold for salamanders to be above ground,” Bee said.
Faith pointed to a moss-covered log. “Bee, put it here, but I don’t wanna touch it. I don’t like slimy stuff.”
Bee watched the ravens that squawked louder because of my presence. I inhaled. My lips puckered out as I sent a frigid gust of air toward them. I knew the pesky birds annoyed Bee.
“Girls, time to go.” She wrapped the jacket around herself.
I grinned at the black birds flying away to escape my wind. They sensed death and didn’t want to tempt fate.
“Hurry, it’s getting cold, and you didn’t wear your hats. Your mom is going to get mad at me if you get sick.”
The girl walked by where I hid behind a cluster of blueberry bushes. I sucked in my breath with the warm breeze that followed her. She was full of life and unbelievably breathtaking. Her eyes captivated me. They were dark onyx with flecks of gold that danced around the edges. Her heart-shaped lips were cherry red and full. I imagined kissing them to take her soul tonight.
The carefree swing of her hips sent tingles down my spine. But seeing Bee again caused me to relive every painful memory of the night I died. It was my fault. I killed Sabrina. I stumbled back further into pine trees and held my hands to my head squeezing, forcing the flashback of my death to go away.
I had to get this assignment over with. The faster I collected the girl’s soul and delivered it, the faster I could move on—as far away from New Hampshire as possible. Maybe Abe would allow me to transfer to the sunny west coast. Fall in New England was overrated, and the crowds of leaf peepers were annoying.
I would reap her tonight while she slept. She wouldn’t know what happened until it was too late. Everyone prayed they could die in their sleep. Too bad Abe hadn’t let me die in mine.
Three
I
couldn’t bring myself to follow Bee to her cousin Sabrina’s house. Thoughts of Sabrina rattled through my brain, the flashbacks causing a death ache in my temples. I watched until the trio reached the edge of the yard. The girl turned to the cemetery before running fast toward the small farmhouse.
I sat at the base of a rotted tree and waited for the cover of darkness before entering her house. I had to do everything I could to stay impersonal with this reap, which meant staying away from her as much as possible.
When darkness came, I picked the lock to her front door and hid in the shadows. Her room was small but homey. Purple curtains hung from the windows. A long curtain covered the door that led to the woods. Over a dresser hung a corkboard with pictures in neat lines held by colored pins. I looked away from a picture of us fishing by the river.
It took forever for her to go to bed. She comforted her mother, helped her dad move a flock of chickens into the coop, and then played video games with her brother—which ended in an argument. I banked that once she did go to bed it would be sweet dreams.
She tossed and turned for an hour and called out for Sabrina twice. It was a total downer. I curled into myself as a knife inched into my gut, slowly reaching up toward my heart.
My patience for this assignment thinned. I just wanted to get her death over with, but when I saw how she looked bundled up in a rose blanket with her black hair framed against her face, she wasn’t any girl. She was Sabrina’s cousin, and the girl I had always loved. Bee was marked and had to die, and acid churned in my stomach.
I turned my head to give my brain a break. I didn’t want her image a permanent engraving in my memory, but it was too late. She had been in every dream since I was twelve. At fifteen, when the other boys were counting how many girls they kissed, I counted how many times a day she smiled at me. She and Sabrina were all I had. My drunken mother who beat me didn’t count.
I shook my head to rid it of the bad memories. I tried to act like this was just my average reap, and I moved forward. The floor squeaked, and I froze. Old mortal habits were hard to stop. I took another step toward her bed. Stuffed dogs were in a neat row near her feet and shadows danced on the wall.
I leaned my scythe against her desk, lowering its power to a minimum. She turned on her back. I froze again.
She smiled and her lips went into a thin straight line. Heat radiated from her body and hit me in waves. It wasn’t normal for me to feel warmth without a reaped soul, let alone it streaming out from people. I tried to ignore the warmth, but it made me feel alive and drew me to her.
I couldn’t help but stand next to her bed, staring at her as I soaked up every ounce of warmth. She was like standing on the summit of Mount Monadnock at high noon, like eating greasy pizza at The Cheshire, like the lyrics to a new song flowing through me after writing the chords.
I raised my head to the stucco ceiling and held my arms out. I could have stood there all night basking in her warmth, but my cell phone vibrated and beeped. I fumbled through my cloak and tossed the heavy fabric until my hand reached it, turning it off. The girl moved but didn’t wake.
With every step I took, she twitched and moaned. The darn floor was too squeaky. The walk to her bed was slow.
I hovered over her and had the urge to touch her face, but I was scared to get lost in the consuming warmth she oozed. I brought my body closer to hers, the sleeves of my cloak sat heavy on her sheets. I was careful to be slow and quiet.
The sweet smell of warm honey coming from her skin made me want to taste her. I brought my lips inches from hers and kept my eyes open, so she wouldn’t be scared when I drank her soul. She had liked my blue eyes and told me they were like the sky on a June day chasing away the winter snow. Maybe she would recognize them.
I let my lips rest on hers. Their warmth flooded me. I wanted to take her mouth in mine, but I just held my lips to hers, savoring what I never had in life. It was what I always wanted. I was cheated of my life.
Electric tingles sparked from us and danced. I shuddered when her warmth covered my cold. She smelled so good. The scent of flowers blossomed from her hair.